by Mark Dapin
‘“Look at the chuis,” said Townsville Jack. “They just sit around and get fat. Figuratively speaking,” he added, since there wasn’t a white officer in Thailand who weighed more than nine stone.
‘“Just because the chuis live better than us doesn’t mean we’d live better if there were no chuis,” said Snowy White.
‘“They take the best of everything,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“You’d do the same if you were them,” said Snowy White.
‘“But I’m not them,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“So how can you judge them?” asked Snowy White.
‘Snowy White was the first of the new arrivals to join the Vigilance Committee when problems started up again. The boys from the line wouldn’t give up their kit to the chuis. Most of the enlisted men wouldn’t salute. If there had ever been any difference between Duffy and the Vigilance Committee, it disappeared. Evans and his men took off their hoods and started wearing special “VC” armbands, until the Japs confiscated them.
‘None of it really touched our hut, though. We sat around talking about cakes and pies and potatoes, while Katz painted and I carved, Myer made jokes and Townsville Jack cracked his knuckles. We told each other about the women we’d had and the women we’d wanted, and the things they hadn’t let us do to them. Me, Katz and Myer talked about growing up, but Townsville Jack never said a word about anything that had happened before he left home. It was as if he’d always been a man, as if he’d fallen fully formed from a tree, although he once said he had a brother in Victoria.
‘Some nights, we sang songs. Townsville Jack had a voice in those big strong lungs. He liked show tunes and music hall, and every now and then he’d whistle “Changi Races”. He was humming that melody when he came back from the river and told me, “I’ve found a champion frog.”
‘“Bonza,” I said. “Let’s eat it now.”
‘“But it’s a racing frog,” said Townsville Jack.
‘He put his hand down his jap-happy and pulled it out.
‘“Do you see?” he said. “He’s got the same markings as Rivette.”
‘“Bash him on the head,” I said, “and toss him in the kwali.”
‘“But we could make our fortune,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“We’ve been down this path before,” I told him.
‘“But last time we were beaten by insider knowledge,” said Townsville Jack. “This time, we’ve got the knowledge. This frog’d beat any other frog in the camp.”
‘“There are no other frogs in the camp,” I said.
‘“I could find some more,” said Townsville Jack.
‘Townsville Jack called his new frog ‘Can Nearly’, after Keneally, and because, he said, “She can nearly jump as high as this roof.” I should have flattened Can Nearly with my mallet then and there. I should’ve put a stop to all the bullshit before it started.
‘Townsville Jack was right: he found four more frogs in the mangroves. I was right too: we should’ve made frog curry.
‘The frog races started up again, in a clearing in the jungle where Townsville Jack marked up the track to “regulation size”. We had a problem because no bugger had a shirt to stretch across the poles, so we had to build barriers from attap, like every bloody thing else.
‘This time, though, Townsville Jack made up a story about each frog, so blokes could back something that appealed to them. The frog called “Ginger Meggs” was a mischievous little battler. “Les Darcy” was the toughest frog ever to jump in the ring, and he didn’t want anything to do with the bloody war. “Phar Lap” was the people’s frog. “The Don” was a hopper who could only be beaten by a bouncer.
‘Can Nearly didn’t appear in any events until one of the other animals was stolen and eaten by Diamond Tom.
‘There was nothing else to do in Camp Duffy, so frog racing became very popular very quickly, but it caused a lot of trouble that nobody had expected.
‘A decent fella named O’Connor had a soft spot (in his head) for Phar Lap. He had a couple of wins on the frog – or maybe another frog that Townsville Jack had decided was Phar Lap after the first Phar Lap had escaped – but he always put all his winnings on the next race. He borrowed his stake from the camp shylock at thirty per cent interest, but when the shylock came to collect his debt, O’Connor pushed him out of his hut.
‘The shylock turned to Evans to get his money back, even though it was against the camp rules to loan money at interest. He hired the Vigilance Committee to sort O’Connor out, and they bashed him senseless for two shillings, which was the exact amount O’Connor owed the shylock. It wasn’t the money, it was the principle of the thing.
‘The O’Connor episode made Evans’s boys look like the thugs they were, and some gamblers formed an Anti-Vigilance Committee Committee, and picked off a couple of individual VCs after dark. Soon there were fights every night. Worse than that, blokes were backing frogs instead of buying food, and selling their jap-happies to the locals just to raise a stake. And if there was one thing that got Duffy’s goat, it was seeing soldiers walking around naked.
‘Three times Evans warned Townsville Jack to stop, but Townsville Jack was convinced he was making his fortune again, even though all the money in the camp wouldn’t’ve bought a bicycle in Australia.
‘“You’re causing chaos,” said Evans.
‘Townsville Jack laughed, because the chaos had nothing much to do with frog racing.
‘Townsville Jack announced that the biggest race of the season would be the Miracle Mile. The track was only fifteen foot long, he explained, but that was a mile “in frog terms”.
‘Every man in Camp Duffy wanted a punt on the Miracle Mile. On the night of the race there was nobody in the mess because nobody had contributed to the mess fund. There was nothing to eat in the entire bloody camp. Townsville Jack had warned the punters that a new, untested frog named Can Nearly was joining the field, but by now the blokes had realised that a frog is a frog is a frog, and you might as well just pick one you like and stick with him, because they all hop the same way.
‘There must’ve been a hundred blokes at the clearing. We had stewards carrying torches to light up the field. Townsville Jack strummed a mandolin and sang “Duffy’s Races”. We were just about to put the frogs under starter’s orders when Evans walked out from between the trees and barked, “You will close down this race meeting immediately, Fry.”
‘“I will not,” said Townsville Jack. “Why should I?”
‘“Because that’s an order,” said Evans.
‘“That’s no reason to do anything here,” said Townsville Jack.
‘“It’s the only reason to do anything here,” said Evans.
‘Townsville Jack scratched the back of his neck.
‘“But you’re standing in the members’ stand,” said Townsville Jack, “and you’re not a member.”
‘“Don’t talk gibberish, Fry,” said Evans. “Pack up your sideshow and leave.”
‘“I’m not going to do that, sport,” said Townsville Jack, and he pushed Evans aside.
Evans leapt at him and took a swing, but Townsville Jack slipped the punch. He jabbed Evans in the ribs, not so much to hurt him as to show him he was open to a body shot. Evans dropped his elbows and exposed his chin. Townsville Jack flicked him on the jaw.
‘The men jeered and cheered, enjoying the show. If they weren’t going to watch a race, at least they’d get to see a fight. A fella they called Blue Alf, a redhead who used to help out Townsville Jack, started running a book. Shorty Burns backed Townsville Jack’s experience against Evans’s fitness; Snowy White put his money on the chui.
‘But Evans wasn’t going to fight.
‘“Clear up and piss off,” he said, “or I’ll put you on a charge.”
‘Now the men realised they were witnessing a terrible injustice. Every hour of every day, these blokes lived through the filthiest horrors the Japs could devise, and they couldn’t do a bloody thing about it. B
ut this time they had a chance to stand up and be counted, and to a man they all lined up behind Townsville Jack.
‘I stood at the beginning of the track with a bucket of frogs in my hand, looking Townsville Jack in the eye, and I could see into his thoughts. He’d always known this was the way it would end. His destiny was to be St Jack of Townsville no matter how many priests he punched. He was going to be St Jack the Martyr.
‘I saw him waver, and I saw him decide.
‘“We’re holding this race,” said Townsville Jack.
‘One of the Japs, a guard with a droopy eye like Duffy’s, had followed the noise to the clearing. It wasn’t against Jap laws to hold a frog race – they didn’t have rules for things like that – so Droopy just watched from the members’ stand as Evans tried to close it down.
‘And Evans saw that if he tried again to stop the race, his men would rip the flesh off his bones. But he saw everything else too. He knew the outcome, the same as Townsville Jack.
‘“Don’t do this,” said Evans.
‘“Why not?” asked Townsville Jack. “To save you?”
‘Evans stepped back from the crowd and turned on his heel and marched towards the officers’ quarters.
‘Townsville Jack’s starting pistol was a clap and stamp; the stewards released the frogs and the winner was Can Nearly by a neck, although Can Nearly didn’t actually have a neck. Whoever caught the rest of the field got to keep them and eat them, because everybody knew there wasn’t going to be another frog race.
‘Townsville Jack kissed Can Nearly. He didn’t turn into a prince, but Townsville Jack said he already was a prince, the prince of frogs. He paid out the winners and counted his take from the losers, and passed the money to me, along with his tote bag.
‘“Here,” he said, “it’s yours.”
‘After the race Townsville Jack went to the river to wash, and they came for him while he was naked: four officers rushed him at once. Evans wasn’t with them. Townsville Jack knocked down the first while another dived for his legs.
‘Somebody shouted there was a blue on, and I ran down to the banks with a bamboo stick in my hand, but by the time I got there it was all over red rover. If they’d been bashing him, I would’ve jumped in, but they were just holding him, telling him to calm down.
‘They threw Townsville Jack into the boob, and the men stayed up all night, mumbling and cursing and threatening to break him out, but he was still there in the morning when the officers marched Townsville Jack to the orderly room.
‘They gave him a court martial and Duffy sat in judgement. They told him he was entitled to representation, but Townsville Jack said he could defend himself, and it sounded like he’d break their necks if they came near him.
‘Three of the charges were gambling, assault and incitement to mutiny, but there were at least a dozen more. Townsville Jack’s defence was the mutiny had grown without his knowledge; he hadn’t asked for it and he hadn’t wanted it. He’d been trying to stage an entertainment, like a concert party, and he’d intended the profits would go to the hospital fund. And he hadn’t assaulted anyone. He’d defended himself when he was attacked.
‘“You cannot be ‘attacked’ by your superior officer,” said Duffy.
‘“I could if he had a bit of go in him,” said Townsville Jack.
‘It was a proper trial with witnesses and evidence: a betting slip, an IOU, even a crushed frog, and in the end Duffy found against Townsville Jack.
‘“You’ve paid no attention to any of the sanctions in this camp,” said Duffy, “formal or informal. Worst of all, your insubordination was witnessed by a soldier of the Imperial Japanese Army, who must now realise how far military discipline has crumbled in this camp. For that reason above any other, you’ve left me no choice but to hand you over to the IJA for punishment.”
‘“Hand me over?” said Townsville Jack. “Do you really think it’s your rabble that’s keeping me here?”
‘They handcuffed him and sent him to the camp commandant. Lord knows where they got the handcuffs. Probably Duffy carried them all the way from Changi, like Bluey carted Little Bluey and Townsville Jack hauled his white tote bag.
‘The Japs gave Townsville Jack his choice of punishment. He could either be crucified or take a beating with pickaxe handles. I guessed he would pick crucifixion, but that’s because I didn’t really know Townsville Jack.
‘“I’ll take the sticks,” he said.’
BONDI
THURSDAY 3 MAY 1990
Mum was holding one of her imaginary conversations on the phone.
‘He’s good,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell him you asked.’
‘I hate him and I wish he was dead,’ I said.
‘He says the same about you,’ said Mum. ‘He hadn’t realised what an essential part of our little family you were until you were gone.’
‘I’m not a part of his family,’ I said.
‘Yes, that’s what he says,’ said Mum, ‘so now it’s time for you to come home.’
‘But I don’t want to come home,’ I said.
‘Last week you were begging me,’ said Mum.
‘Jimmy needs me here,’ I said.
‘I think you’ve confused yourself with a bottle of whisky,’ said Mum. ‘Oh, goodbye, darling.’
‘Goodbye,’ I said.
‘Not you,’ said Mum. ‘Christian. Why the hell do you want to stay with Jimmy now? I’ve spent all week trying to persuade Christian to have you back.’
‘We’re doing a project,’ I said.
‘You’re building a doll’s house,’ said Mum. ‘I heard.’
‘It’s not a doll’s house.’
‘You were never interested in my doll’s house,’ said Mum.
‘It’s a ghost house,’ I said.
‘Do you know,’ said Mum, ‘I often wish I’d had a daughter.’
I made a squealing noise, like a girl.
‘If you want to stay, then stay,’ said Mum. ‘But if you don’t go to school, I’ll have you thrown into an orphanage.’
‘They don’t have them any more,’ I said.
‘In Romania,’ said Mum.
She asked me if I had spoken to my dad, but she knew he wouldn’t phone my grandmother’s house.
‘You could call him yourself,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sure he’s worried about you.’
‘He never worries about me,’ I said.
My dad was a good person, but all he thought about was the Woman in White and how to keep her giggling in bed. He hadn’t even given me my pocket money for a month. I checked Jimmy wasn’t around and dialled the number that used to be my number but was now her number. My dad answered, and said, ‘I’m worried about you, David.’
It was like he had been talking to Mum, but I knew he hadn’t because he hadn’t said a word to her since the day she left him.
‘Why don’t you come and stay with us?’ asked Dad.
‘Because you said I couldn’t, and now I don’t want to.’
At least Dad didn’t pretend the Woman in White was missing me, but he did ask me to meet him for lunch.
‘It’s a school day,’ I said, in case he’d forgotten I went to school.
He said he’d bring a letter for my teacher – she was getting a lot of them these days – and we could eat sandwiches in the park. I suggested he should take me to a restaurant instead.
I had a worse than usual morning at school. Two fat kids chased me around the basketball court, calling out, ‘Gluebag the Jewbag!’ They planned to dunk me through the hoop because I had killed Jesus. I wanted to stand and fight them to the death, but I ran away instead, pretending it was a game. It made me ashamed of myself, and angry at my dad for not having bashed me when I was younger so I would know how to defend myself against bullies now.
Dad arrived at the school gates in his yellow Toyota Camry, wearing a cream shirt with a flapping collar and a wide blue tie. Dad’s business was called Blue’s Glue, so he always wore blue ties to work, and usual
ly blue pants too. When I was younger I had begged Dad to buy me a blue tie, but now I owned one and I thought it was stupid.
When I was little, Dad had been a hero to me, although I knew he had never been to war. He told fantastic jokes and could kick a football so high it almost vanished into the sun. He wore fat gold rings on his fingers and a smiling gold watch on his wrist, but he usually had sauce on his shirt cuffs, and he was never quite shaved. I thought he must be a millionaire. He drove easily, and never swore at other cars.
But when he met the Woman in White, his clothes became smarter and his cheeks smoother. He was more serious and grown-up. She had changed everything about him except his stupid car.
We ate at Avram the Israeli’s Café, which was owned and managed by Dad’s friend Colin from Scotland. I had a steak, so I would grow strong enough to stand up to the fat kids. Dad ordered a chicken schnitzel but didn’t really eat it.
Dad asked about everyone except Mum, then told me the Woman in White would make a very good mother.
Oh God.
‘She’s not pregnant, is she?’ I asked.
Dad laughed, as if he’d never had sex with her.
‘A mother to you, I mean,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come and live with us?’
First nobody wanted me, now everyone did.
‘It’s not fair of your mum to dump you at Jimmy’s,’ said Dad.
‘I like it there,’ I said. ‘They treat me like a grown-up.’
‘He hasn’t got you drinking, has he?’ asked Dad.
‘No,’ I said, ‘but he talks to me.’
Dad put an arm around my shoulder.
‘I thought we always had great talks,’ he said.
‘That was before,’ I said. ‘Now you just tell me that she told me to wash behind my ears.’
‘Well, you should,’ said Dad.
‘Why?’
‘Because otherwise potatoes will grow there.’
‘Then I’d be a freak,’ I said, ‘and I could make my fortune.’
‘You might be able to get tax breaks as a primary producer,’ Dad admitted.