by Mark Dapin
‘“Hang on a minute,” said Townsville Jack, “we’re going the wrong bloody way. This isn’t south, it’s east.”
‘He looked around at a river that was almost as narrow as the barge.
‘“We’re heading for the mountains,” he said.
‘The boatman spoke through his son.
‘“The place you are going to is different from the other camps,” he said to Townsville Jack. “These other men may die,” he pointed to the rest of his cargo, “but you, you are an officer, so you will survive.”
‘Townsville Jack nodded.
‘“You are an officer,” repeated the boatman’s son. “Do you understand that?”
‘“I’m an officer,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“They made you the leader because you are so tall,” said the boatman.
‘“That’d be it,” said Townsville Jack.
‘We travelled about thirty miles until we reached the end of the river, where the barge was met by two bored Japs in a bullocky. We were the only men to get off. The boatman tried to unload the corpses, but the Japs refused to take them. Me and Townsville Jack were so tired and weak we couldn’t even climb into the cart.
‘The Japs made chimpanzee noises, but in the end they helped us up.
‘We were on the cart for two days. The trail was as rough as the Birdsville Track. I felt every pit and puddle in the place my gall bladder used to be. Finally we reached a sealed road, where a gunso and a crew of Koreans picked us up in a truck. I lost track of day and night. We were taken out twice, to shit in a clearing, and fed on rice and dirt. When we finally got within cooee of a cluster of huts, the Japs tossed us out like sacks of rice and left us lying in the middle of the path. We crawled under the shade of a tree and fell asleep. We were woken by a tall man with sunken eyes, wearing patched shorts and shiny shoes and carrying a stick.
‘“Are you officers or men?” he asked us.
‘“I am an officer,” said Townsville Jack, “and this is my batman.”
‘“Officers’ quarters are to the right, sir,” he said, offering a salute. “You can make your way there when you’re ready.”
‘“We can’t walk,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“I can help you, sir,” he said, “but your batman’ll have to wait until there’s an MO to carry him.”
‘“I’ll stay with him,” said Townsville Jack. “I’m worried he’ll try and escape.”
‘“Oh, there’s no escape from here, sir,” said the tall man. “We’re very well guarded.”
‘“I was joking,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“Of course, sir,” he said. “I’ll send two orderlies.”
‘He saluted and marched off.
‘“Have I gone bloody berko,” asked Townsville Jack, “or did that bloke just march?”
‘We’d been under the tree for a while when a wiry little fella limped over and looked at us with his head cocked, like a monkey. He had black sunken eyes and small pink hands, and he prodded Townsville Jack on the shoulder, as if he didn’t believe he was real.
‘“It’s you, Pete, isn’t it?” said the monkey man. “It’s me, Diamond Tom.”
‘Townsville Jack tried to sit upright.
‘“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked.
‘“Taking my annual holiday,” said Diamond Tom. “What do you fucking think?”
‘“Good to see you, mate,” said Townsville Jack, and tried to hold out his hand, but his tired arm dropped before it could stretch to Diamond Tom.
‘“I heard you say you were an officer,” said Diamond Tom.
‘“I was promoted in the field,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“Which field?” asked Diamond Tom.
‘“This one here,” said Townsville Jack.
‘Diamond Tom rolled two cigarettes, one for me and one for Townsville Jack.
‘“You’d better watch yourself,” said Diamond Tom, “or they’ll throw you in the boob.”
‘“We’re already in the boob,” said Townsville Jack. “Or haven’t you noticed?”
‘“No,” said Diamond Tom, “the boob.”
‘Townsville Jack shook his head.
‘“You’re as mad as a maggot, Diamond Tom,” he said.
‘“If I were you,” said Diamond Tom, “I’d get back on my feet and disappear into the bush. There’s a couple of good men camped down by the river, pretending to be choleras, living off the fish they catch.”
‘“If you were me,” said Townsville Jack, “you couldn’t bloody move.”
‘I tried to take my weight onto my legs, but the jungle air pressed me back down. I thought, This is how it must feel to be paralysed, like you’re awake but you can’t wake up your limbs.
‘“The orderlies are coming,” whispered Diamond Tom. “Pretend you’re delirious.”
‘“I am bloody delirious,” said Townsville Jack.
‘The officers’ quarters was just another bamboo hut with an attap roof, but at least we didn’t have to build it before we could sleep in it. There were two clean-shaven men squatting in the doorway, drinking warm water and smoking hibiscus leaves. They rose and saluted as the orderlies rested Townsville Jack on a spent palliasse and dumped me on a platform on the floor.
‘A tall man visited us in the afternoon with the fella with shiny shoes by his side. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Colonel Duffy to Townsville Jack.
‘Duffy might’ve been fat once, but his body had eaten itself in the jungle. Now he was drawn like the rest of us, but his bones left him wide hips, like an archway. His figure reminded me of an empty bottle. He had lost his front teeth, and the new shape of his mouth made his voice whistle. He had one lazy eyelid that drooped like a curtain over his right eye.
‘And he looked like he should be on horseback. Duffy always seemed as though he was riding the length of a column, looking down on his men. He should’ve worn spurs and carried a crop. He had standards. That was the main thing with Duffy – he was a standard bearer. Like an ancient bloody Roman.
‘I could see he was older than the rest of us, but age is just your distance from death, so we were all pretty much equal there. He talked a bit like somebody from another time, but maybe it was another class. There was something . . . womanly about him, a curl of his lip or a swing of his hip, something he hadn’t been able to harden. Callaghan didn’t have that, but Duffy wasn’t worth the wax on Callaghan’s moustache tails.
‘“What is your name and rank?” he asked Townsville Jack.
‘“My name is that with which I was born,” said Townsville Jack. “My rank is that which I have earned.”
‘“He’s delirious, sir,” said the man with shiny shoes.
‘“Thank you, Captain Evans,” said Duffy.
‘Evans was a different kind of build – thin, of course, but there’d been a time when he’d had so much muscle that he hadn’t been able to lose it all. There were one or two men like him, drill sergeants and PT instructors, meshugannehs who, when the day’s work was over, would try to pump out ten pull-ups on the beams in the hut, until their silly bloody bones cracked. He had sunken eyes but they were still bright, and – incredibly – he bothered to grease back his hair. God knows what he used.
‘Duffy squinted at Townsville Jack.
‘“Do you need anything?” he asked.
‘“Just rest,” rasped Townsville Jack.
‘“The Japs had you labouring, did they?” asked Duffy. “Well, that’s all over now.”
‘“And lace,” said Townsville Jack, “I need lace to make a doily.”
‘We heard the rumble of a work party limping back to camp, and I waited for the slap of gruel slopped into dixies, but before the cooks served the men, a soldier came into the hut carrying Townsville Jack’s meal on a bamboo tray.
‘“Rice, sir,” he said to Townsville Jack. “I’m afraid your batman will have to mess with the ORs.”
‘I pulled myself up by the bedpost.
; ‘“Save your strength,” said Townsville Jack. “There’s enough here for two.”
‘We ate his rice and it was good – as far as rice goes – but I still managed to drag myself to join line at the kwali. I needed one stick in each hand to walk the distance, but a couple of blokes lent me bony shoulders to lean on. Looking down the row of POWs, I realised me and Townsville Jack were the only men in the camp wearing beards.
‘After dinner there was a tenko, but it was called by Duffy not the Japs. He counted us easily, which was a relief, but then he started an inspection. A bloody inspection! I couldn’t believe it. He marched up to me, standing there balanced on my sticks, and said, “Haircut and shave, soldier.”
‘I shuffled back to the officers’ quarters and fell down next to Townsville Jack on the palliasse.
‘“I’ve just been sent to the barber,” I said. “Where the bloody hell are we?”
‘“We’re back with my old unit,” said Townsville Jack, “and we’re going to die.”
It was the first time I’d heard him talk like that.
‘Duffy called in just before the lights-out bugle call.
‘“With respect, Captain,” he said (he had decided Townsville Jack must be a captain), “this isn’t the merchant navy. All the officers in my camp are required to be clean shaven. It’s cooler, it’s healthier, and it helps show the Japs we haven’t lost all self-respect.”
‘“I’ve got a skin disease, sir,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“We all have skin diseases,” said Duffy. “That’s no excuse for looking like a caveman. I want to see you and your batman trimmed and scrubbed by tomorrow.”
‘“I am a sheep,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“Well then, get yourself shorn,” said Duffy.
‘In the morning a soldier brought a pair of shorts and a shirt for Townsville Jack, but nothing for me. He showed us to the barber, who worked from a stool under a tree. He had a scissors but no comb. I went first. He had to shave me without soap. My cheeks and chin bled, but afterwards I splashed water on my face and felt better.
‘He trimmed Townsville Jack’s beard like it was a hedge – which it more or less was. When it was cut close enough to make out the line of his jaw, the barber asked, “Do I know you, sir?”
‘“Forget it,” said Townsville Jack.
‘The barber patted Townsville Jack’s shoulder and carried on cutting, but he worked more carefully, gently even. When he’d finished, he took a mirror from his pocket and showed it to Townsville Jack.
‘“Is that how you remember yourself?” he asked.
‘“I don’t know who I am, Foley,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“Keep it that way, eh?” said Foley.
‘“What the hell’s going on?” I asked Townsville Jack.
‘We were on our way back to our hut when Duffy and Evans marched up. Duffy was about to say something officerly to Townsville Jack, when he noticed the features on his clean shaven face. He looked at Townsville Jack closely, and me not at all.
‘“It’s you,” he said to Townsville Jack.
‘“Who?” asked Townsville Jack.
‘“The wolf in sheep’s clothing,” said Duffy. “Now get that uniform off.”
‘“No,” said Townsville Jack.
‘Duffy was only a bit shorter than Townsville Jack, and his rank added a couple of inches to his height. He stood tall and stared like a snake charmer into Townsville Jack’s eyes, but Townsville Jack just wiped his forehead and smiled his country boy smile.
‘“You’ve no right to those,” said Duffy, pointing to the makeshift pips on Townsville Jack’s epaulettes.
‘Townsville Jack pulled them off and handed them to Duffy.
‘“Now get to your quarters,” said Duffy.
‘Townsville Jack didn’t move until Evans called three NCOs to stand behind Duffy and puff out their chicken chests.
‘“Give me a minute,” said Townsville Jack. “I need to pack.” He stuffed an officer’s dixie into his white tote bag.
‘“I knew it was you,” said Evans.
‘“Of course you did,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“The old man will have you on a charge tomorrow,” said Evans.
‘“Of course he will,” said Townsville Jack.
‘They stood inches apart, their fists clenched by their sides, staring into each other’s eyes.
‘“You can keep the shorts,” said Evans. “Give me back the shirt.”
‘“No,” said Townsville Jack.
‘Evans raised his hands slightly.
‘“You’re not proving anything,” said Evans.
‘“I’ve got nothing to prove,” said Townsville Jack.
‘The NCOs came closer, but Evans waved them away. In the ORs hut, we took a dead man’s bunk and slept together, side by side.
‘“Duffy was my CO,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“Who are you, mate?” I asked him.
‘“It doesn’t matter who I was,” said Townsville Jack. “My father said I’d disgraced the family name, so I thought, Bugger youse, and to hell with the family name, and I chose another.”
‘“Townsville Jack?”
‘Townsville Jack shook his big head.
‘“I joined up as Peter Fry,” he said, “the same name as I used in the nick. Me and the army got on all right to start with. In jail I got used to being bellowed at and bashed, so that didn’t worry me. I grew up in the country, so I knew my way around guns, and I liked the army training. I liked being fit. I even liked digging bloody holes. There’s not much else to do but dig holes when you’ve got a year’s hard labour in Townsville, so you might as well get good at it.
‘“But I never liked Duffy. He thinks he’s a born leader, but you’ve got to earn the kind of respect he thinks he’s got coming to him, and Evans is a fucking coward.”
‘Townsville Jack fell asleep, and I was lulled into dreams of home by his sad, familiar snore.
‘We woke up to a bugle call and an NCO patting his cane on the foot of the bunk, calling, “Everybody out!” After another tenko by Duffy, Townsville Jack was led away.
‘There was an orderly room in Camp Duffy, just like in Changi. They even had a picture of the King on the wall, although it was only a drawing. Duffy told Townsville Jack he was disappointed that one of his own men should come before him like this, having fraudulently obtained camp property and robbed his comrades by sitting around while they had gone out and worked. Obviously, we could’ve said the same about half the officers on the line, but Townsville Jack didn’t make a big thing about that. He didn’t want a revolution. He didn’t even want anyone to help him. I’ve never met a bloke like that before or since. He was like a country of his own, “plucky little Belgium” or something.
‘He was told he had impersonated an officer and disobeyed a direct order to return his kit.
‘“In this camp,” Duffy told him, “you are a soldier first and foremost, then you are a prisoner. As a soldier, it is your duty to respect your officers and obey their orders. We all have the greatest chance of survival if we retain the discipline of an Australian fighting force. You only have to look at the Tamils, perishing in their own filth: they’ve got no officers, no hierarchy, no discipline, no ranks, and they die. Do you want to die like a coolie? Is that what you want?”
‘“The coolies die because they’ve got no doctors,” said Townsville Jack, “not because they’ve got no officers.”
‘Townsville Jack was found guilty. He was always found guilty. I don’t think he’d ever beaten a blue in his life. As his punishment he was put on half rations for a week.
‘“You must be bloody joking,” he said.
‘“The prisoner is dismissed,” said Duffy.
‘I thought I might get hauled up before Duffy too, but it turned out there was no such charge as “impersonating a batman”, because there’s no point in it.’
BONDI
MONDAY 30 APRIL 1990
Jimmy sen
t me to school with a note saying I’d been absent for two days because I’d hit my thumb with a hammer. The teacher knew I came from a broken home, and she asked if I had really hit myself or if someone else had done it to me. I was tempted to blame the Dark Man, or even the Woman in White, but I knew I was lucky to get away with the excuse at all.
When I came back to my grandmother’s house Jimmy was fitting the walls to the base of the spirit house, as a pair of lorikeets looked down from the telegraph wire.
Barry Dick crossed the road to ask Jimmy if he wanted to put on teffilin.
‘Not now,’ said Jimmy, ‘I’m busy.’
‘It’s a mitzvath to be busy,’ said Barry Dick, ‘but it’s also a mitzvath to put on teffilin.’
‘Is there anything that isn’t a mitzvath?’ asked Jimmy.
‘Yes, there is,’ said Barry Dick. ‘Making graven images.’
‘There’s not a lot of that about any more,’ said Jimmy.
‘Isn’t there?’ asked Barry Dick. ‘Can I ask what you’re doing?’
‘I’m building an extension,’ said Jimmy.
‘Oh,’ said Barry Dick, ‘that’s fine then.’
‘Fine, is it?’ said Jimmy.
‘It should be fine,’ said Barry Dick. ‘Remember: Moshiach is coming.’
‘I’ll leave some biscuits out,’ said Jimmy.
Jimmy’s latest drawings showed a tiled sloping roof supported by pillars and decorated with dragons. We looked at his sketches of guttering laced with snowflake jewellery, and Jimmy said he didn’t think he had the eye for the fine work any more.
‘I could paint them,’ I offered.
Jimmy cocked his head, as if he had heard something in the wind. He fossicked in the shed – among the dolls’ arms and false teeth, the spectacle frames and watchstraps – until he found a tin of gold paint, left over from one of Daniel’s old modelling kits.
‘The ORs’ quarters were crowded,’ said Jimmy as I traced a dragon’s tail. ‘The air smelled sweet like crushed bedbugs, and rank like shit. We were supposed to be building an airfield in the mountains, and working parties went out every day to try to level the land, but I think everyone knew by then that there was never going to be an airfield, just another burial ground. There was no discipline on either side. We were nowhere, surrounded by malarial forests where tigers and leopards and hog deer lived like bloody dinosaurs. The Japs took bribes to keep healthy men out of the working parties. The sick just died.