Drowning in Her Eyes

by Patrick Ford

  “It was that night at Ballinrobe,” she said. “I could feel it.”

  “We must take our baby to the thinking place,” said Jack, “so her spirit will be tied to ours and to the land.”

  “Her?” Susan questioned. “How do you know?”

  “I know,” he said, “I just know.”

  * * * *

  They decided not to tell anyone about the baby, at least for the time being. Jack thought Helen had enough to worry about right now. Susan thought her mother couldn’t handle this kind of explosive revelation at all.

  “Let’s wait until we’re absolutely sure,” she said. “Then we can let everyone know. Surely Mom will agree to our marriage now.”

  “I’m sure my Mum will agree. After all, she has actively encouraged us in our misdemeanours, and she already loves you like a daughter. Besides, she will be happy to know we will be there for Ballinrobe. I hope Denni will be glad for us.”

  * * * *

  Susan‘s pregnancy was confirmed. She missed another period, but the morning sickness passed and she was feeling relaxed and well. She always was possessed of a serenity that her siblings did not have. She was full of love for the child growing inside her, and she felt more in love with Jack than ever. No matter what happened now, she would always have a part of him. She did not fear her mother, but she feared the effect the news would have on her.

  Marci was displaying increasingly fragile behaviour. She cried frequently, was listless and sad. In fact, she was showing signs of severe depression. The girls tried to comfort her, to help her. Usually, she rejected their proffered help, complaining that they had betrayed her with their loose behaviour.

  Why have they abandoned me, my beautiful daughters? How can they reject me for a couple of boys who would soon be gone?

  Slowly, secretly, she began to make plans for a return home. They must all go with her; she would not leave them behind. Sarah would object; she would only leave under protest, but she would go. Susan was the problem. She must find a way to drive her apart from Jack. She knew it would not be easy, but she was determined to do it.

  Meanwhile, on the tenth day of November, Australia introduced a selective conscription scheme for men aged twenty. The object: to train troops for the now openly acknowledged war in South Vietnam.

  Goondiwindi, Queensland, Australia—1964

  Jack returned to Ballinrobe in mid-November, a snatched weekend to plan next year’s programme, before the intensive period running up to his final examinations for the year. Susan went with him. Helen greeted her with hugs and kisses. Jack could see the growing love between them. They had many short private discussions. “What do you talk about?” he asked. Susan replied, “You, mostly, she’s told me how happy she’ll be when we’re married.”

  “Do you think she knows about the baby?”

  “She may. She knows that something's happened to bring us even closer together.”

  They returned to the secret thinking place. Sam went with them. She had become very attached to both, but she had become more and more anxious if Jack was not there. She sensed that something special was taking place. From now on, she would return here and lie in the shade, near the water trough, as often as she could.

  Susan again wanted to make love here, in this special place. “Our baby will absorb our spirits and those of the land. She’ll belong here and will always return to this place.” This time, their loving was soft, gentle, and slow. Afterwards, they knew that something special had happened. The noisy miner birds returned and chattered over them. “Look,” said Susan, “They are welcoming a new spirit.” Two small green parrots alighted on the rim of the water trough. They examined the lovers with swift turns of their heads and soft chirrups. “How appropriate, those are budgerigars, also called lovebirds,” Jack said, and then kissed her long and hard.

  The harvest was over, another average crop. It was a quick harvest. There had been no rain for months. Ollie reminded Jack of Paddy’s long-range weather forecaster and the faith he had had in him. “I reckon we should wean the calves early and sell them. If it turns really dry, the cows won’t be able to feed them anyway, and the bottom will fall out of the market, you can bloody bet on it.”

  Jack was impressed. Ollie had instinctively grasped the old sage about dry seasons: sell early and repent, but sell. “How much room is there in the barn?” Jack asked.

  “There’s a bit there, boss,” Mick replied. “If we move some of the machinery out, we can make a bloody sight more.”

  “Do that,” said Jack, “and then spend as much as we can afford to buy hay. It’s cheap now. If there is a drought, we can double our money or more. If there isn’t, we will have a cheap feed reserve when we need it.”

  “Bugger me,” said Ollie. “You’re beginning to think like Paddy, the old bastard!”

  Armidale, New South Wales, Australia—1964

  Jack struggled with his examinations. He had spent too much time making love, playing rugby and drinking beer. Nevertheless, the main problem was the missed time because of their bereavements. As he had suspected, chemistry was his weakness, and he left the exam room with little confidence that he had done enough to pass.

  He and Susan had perforce seen little of each other. However, they made sure the passionate intensity of their lovemaking made up for its infrequency. Susan was so sweet and gentle, and was feeling in superb physical condition. She wore the bloom of her pregnancy like a badge of honour. She could not believe people could look at her and not know. Jack came to supper after the examinations ended with the news that he would be attending his Regiment’s recruit course in Sydney. This would take three weeks and he would be back just before Christmas. Susan was disappointed; she would miss him terribly.

  The night before he left, Susan came to his room. She was sad. “Oh, Jack, I don’t know how I’ll cope without you. Let’s make this night a night to remember.”

  She stood before him. Oh, God, he thought, how beautiful she is. Her skin glowed with vitality and her wide eyes shone with love for him.

  She began to unbutton her blouse, and he came forward to help her, but she stayed him. “No,” she said, “I want you to watch.” She disrobed slowly, until she was wearing only her black lace underwear and her sheer black stockings. She looked spectacular.

  He gave a gasp, a quick involuntary intake of breath. God, how lucky I am!

  “Look at me,” she whispered. “I wore these the first night we went out together. I so wanted you then, but you were so sweet; you wanted everything to be perfect. Now it is. Please love me, Jack, love me tonight. I fear I may never see you again if you go away. I know it’s silly, but I’m so fearful. Love me, my beautiful little bush kid, love me forever and ever.”

  Jack noticed she was crying softly.

  Chapter 5

  Heartbreak

  Wallgrove Camp, New South Wales, Australia—1964

  Jack detrained at the Rooty Hill railway station. There were about fifty men in his detachment, under the command of a second lieutenant. This officer ordered his sergeant to form up the men in a column of three. Apparently, they were to march to the camp, a distance of several miles. It was early afternoon and very hot.

  “Bloody hell,” someone said, “they should have some trucks.”

  “Silence in the ranks,” shouted the sergeant.

  The man next to Jack said, “Bugger me, what sort of a prick is that sergeant?”

  “A prick with three stripes,” said another unknown voice, “don’t argue with the bastard.”

  The sergeant began to march up and down the lines yelling abuse and threatening every one with defaulters, whatever that meant. They moved off, kitbags on shoulders. While some had been in the Regiment for a few months and knew basic drill, others had only just joined. They moved down the road like wounded stragglers. Finally, the camp came into sight. They were marched to a parade ground and ordered to wait. The commanding officer was about to address them. They put their kitbags down and sat on t
hem; some lay down and used their kitbags for pillows. They waited. An hour later, they were still waiting. The sun beat down, the heat increased. They waited. They had no water and some of the pale city type recruits began to become red in the face. Heat exhaustion was not far off. They waited.

  Then there was frenetic activity, NCOs shouting, jerking them back to reality. They formed up in a shambolic parade-like order. Several of the men had gone to sleep on their kitbags; they were rounded up for defaulters, whatever that meant. Out in front of the gathering, a fat officer climbed up onto a dais near the flagpole, accompanied by the second lieutenant, the Sergeant from the railway station, and four tough looking corporals. “Men,” he began, “you are about to undergo recruit training. The next three weeks will be the worst three weeks of your life. Reveille will be at 0500. You will have fifteen minutes to shower and shave. If you are late, you will be on defaulters. If you do not shave properly, you will be on defaulters. If you are incorrectly dressed, you will be on defaulters. If you fuck up any orders we give you, you will be on defaulters. If you are in breach of the Code of Military Law, you will be on defaulters. In fact, it will be the intent of my staff to make sure you are on defaulters every day. By the end of your time here, you will be the fittest, meanest, most efficient soldiers in the Australian army. You will hate me, you will hate my staff, and you will want to kill us. However, in three weeks, you will thank us, because we will have transformed you into the best soldiers in the world—infantry of the Australian Army. You will, at all times, move around this camp at the double. Good luck!”

  “Hey, mate,” said someone in the front row. “What’s this bloody defaulters caper?”

  The officer swelled up like a bullfrog and went purple in the face. “Sergeant, take that man’s name. You, soldier, are to address me only when spoken to. You will always address me as Sir. Do I make myself clear?”

  “’I s’pose so. Anyway, what’s defaulters?”

  “You are about to find out, private, in a most unpleasant way. Corporal Rodgers, take defaulters’ parade!”

  The corporal saluted, “Yes sir! On my command, defaulters fall in here on my mark. Move it!” The sleepers and the unfortunate man who had asked the question were marched away at double time. The fat officer turned over the parade to his lieutenant and waddled away towards the officers’ mess.

  While the defaulters were marched away to their fate, the corporals split them into four groups and allocated each group to a hut. The hut commanders were the corporals. Jack was in hut C under the command of Corporal Brennan. Brennan, away from the attention of officers and sergeant, relaxed. He addressed them in an informal group. “That fat captain is a pompous arsehole. The second looey doesn’t have a clue. The Sergeant is okay, but do not fuck with him. I will be here to instruct you and monitor you. You will be clean and attentive at all times, you will work hard, and you will keep this hut and your equipment in first class order. You will depend on me. I hope I can depend on you. Now fall in outside for quartermaster’s parade!”

  They were marched to a large building a few hundred yards away, and issued with bedding, field equipment, steel helmets, bayonets, webbing and ammunition pouches, and an SLR. “Your weapon is your new girlfriend now,” said the corporal. “Treat her better than all the others. You must remember the serial number and repeat it whenever an NCO or officer asks for it, or you will be on defaulters.” Thus encumbered, they were marched back to their hut and dismissed. They found the mess hall and had a meal, then went to their rooms to unpack, make beds, and clean up their equipment. Jack looked around him. I don’t think all these blokes will make it, he thought. Some of them look buggered already.

  * * * *

  The next day the hard work began. At 0500, a bugle called reveille, rudely awakening the whole camp. The corporals dashed through their huts, beating against the walls with cries of “Wakey, wakey, hands off cocks and on to socks!” Fifteen minutes is not much time when you are jostling with twenty others for space in the ablutions block. They double marched to the mess hall. To their surprise, a very good breakfast was available, gulped down in fifteen minutes. Almost before they knew it, they lined up outside their huts, bullied by the corporals into some semblance of order. They formed up in three rows.

  The sergeant appeared from the sergeants’ mess. He looked relaxed and well fed. Apparently, he had had more than fifteen minutes to have his breakfast. The sergeant called them to attention. The fat captain waddled across from his accommodation, returned the sergeant’s salute and began to inspect the parade. At every soldier, he stopped and subjected him to close scrutiny. He found a litany of faults, a button undone, a poor shave—“We don’t have beards in the army, soldier!”—dirty boots, chinstrap buckle in the wrong position, incomplete clothing, inattention, dirty rifle, etc. etc. Any transgressions resulted in an addition to the Defaulters’ Parade. This punishment consisted of running around the camp perimeter with full battle equipment, steel helmet, and rifle at the high port. The camp, built in 1940 to house a Division of fifteen thousand had a long perimeter.

  Drill, and drill, and drill took up the first day. Without rifles, they learned how to form up, how to march in step, how to dress by the right, how to stand at attention, stand at ease, and to stand easy. Drill took up most of the week, with or without rifles. Jack was getting tired of it, and even more tired of some of his fellows who just did not seem to get it.

  Armidale, New South Wales, Australia—1964

  Susan still felt wonderful. She was not showing yet, but she was aware of the growing child. Grow away little one, your mommy and your daddy love you so. Soon you will be with us. We will see our new home and meet our new family. She thought constantly of Jack. My love, be careful and come back to us. I love you and we need you.

  She had told no one. She wanted to confide in Sarah, but was not confident she would keep it from Marci. Jack had said they would tell her as soon as he came back from the army. There were only a couple of weeks to go now.

  * * * *

  Marci was on the verge of a breakdown, but she had laid her plans well. It was all in train. She knew she had to remain strong to keep her family together. In her anxiety, she did not realise that her actions would drive her daughters away and expose her son to a bloody, vicious, guerrilla war. Her plan was to drive straight to Sydney and catch the Honolulu flight. She had told Sarah they were going home. Sarah protested that John wanted to marry her. Marci was adamant. “You will come with me. You are still a minor. If John still wants you, after six months, he can come to America and marry you, but you won’t come back to Australia.”

  “Oh Momma,” cried Sarah, “That is too much to ask of him.”

  “Well, it will be a good test of how much he wants you, won’t it? If he doesn’t come, the answer is obvious, isn’t it?”

  Sarah could not argue the logic of this, but she was heartbroken. As for Jimbo, Marci was now the only constant in his life; he had nowhere else to go.

  * * * *

  A week after Jack had set off for Wallgrove, Marci set her plans in action. She produced a typewritten letter she said had come from Helen. She thrust it at Susan. “Here, read this,” she cried angrily. Susan took it from her:

  Dear Mrs. Baker

  I am sorry to have to send this letter, but I must set things straight. I will never agree to Susan marrying Jack. After due consideration, I feel that she will not fit in here at Ballinrobe. I would prefer that Jack remain single until he has completed his studies, and then marry an Australian girl, a local, who will know what is expected of a farmer’s wife. Jack has accepted this and has promised me that he will abide by my wishes. He does not want to see Susan again.

  Helen Riordan

  Susan read the letter with dread filling the pit of her stomach. “Momma,” she said, “This cannot be true. It’s a lie. Helen doesn’t have a typewriter. Helen loves me, she wants me to marry Jack; she has spoken of nothing else. Jack loves me. Wait until he comes back and he�
��ll tell you. We will get married even if you forbid it; we will live together and as soon as I am twenty-one we will be married. Jack loves me…Jack loves me…Jack loves me…Her voice trailed off and she began to weep bitterly.

  “I’m afraid there will be no time for that. We are leaving here tomorrow, and we will be home in Worcester in a week. I have told Sarah and I will tell you. Jack Riordan will not marry you unless he is prepared to come to America to do so.” Susan looked at her mother with disbelief and revulsion. “You can’t, you can’t; it’s my life, not yours.”

  “I can and I will. You are not of legal age and you must obey me. Tomorrow we leave.”

  “Oh, Momma, I can’t leave Jack. I am having his baby!”

  Marci was not surprised. “You little tramp! What did I say would happen? Why have you defied me all this time? You most certainly cannot have anything to do with that boy again; he has used you; he has despoiled you; you can never see him again.”

  “I must, I must. He loves me and he loves our baby. Oh, Momma, can you not see? Can you not see how happy we have been?”

  “You cannot. I forbid you to contact him. There is no longer a phone in this house and we are leaving first thing in the morning. I have packed your bags and I have thrown away all those revealing clothes and that disgusting underwear. Now go to bed. We have an early start.” In her room, Susan and Sarah lay sobbing together. How could their mother treat them this way? How could she be so cruel? They sobbed for hours, finally drifting into an uneasy sleep.

  In the morning, Marci bundled the two weeping girls and a very confused Jimbo into the car and drove away, away from the city that had brought her such grief. On the journey, she did not leave the girls alone for a moment, even accompanying them to the restrooms. Next day, as their flight lifted off, Susan felt her baby move. Oh, my baby, she thought, are you sad at leaving your country, is your spirit being torn away from that magical place, our thinking place? She made a vow to herself and her unborn child and to Jack that she would return.