Kokoda

by Alan Tucker

  ‘Wh-what’s wrong?’ I asked.

  ‘Harold’s been wounded—and he’s copped a bout of malaria. He was taking quinine tablets so he shouldn’t be too crook for too long. But it’s one of those illnesses that comes back three or four times a year. Here,’ he said, ‘read it yourself.’

  September 1942

  Little brother, Des.

  It seems you were my good luck charm. No sooner had you left me and the Japs to our own devices than one of them stuck his bayonet in me. He didn’t live to see the damage. My leg’s in reasonable shape but you know what infection’s like in this place. Things can get worse in a hurry. They did get worse—but not in the way the doc feared. As the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels carried me down the Track I suffered an attack of malaria. Not that I remember much about it. The Angels kept me on the stretcher when I became delirious and wanted to get off. They’re tough men. They needed to be to stop me doing something I’d set my mind on—even if I was out of my mind!

  I’ve been laid up at the hospital now for a week or more. One minute I’m dripping with sweat and the next I’m icy cold. There’s been a stream of malaria patients through here for months so the staff know exactly how to care for us. I’m one of the lucky ones—some of the boys are suffering from very severe cases. Bloody mosquitoes! I hope your shoulder’s healing and that we can catch up one day soon. We have a lot to talk about. I’ll write to Thelma in a few days and tell her my news.

  Big brother, Harold

  ‘Don’t let onto anyone about Harold’s letter,’ Des instructed me. ‘Let him tell Mum his news when he’s ready, all right? We don’t want to worry her unnecessarily.’

  I nodded.

  Mum was sad this evening. Des reassured her that the Atherton Tablelands would be a holiday camp compared to life on the Track.

  ‘But your shoulder’s not fully healed.’

  ‘I’m such an important cog in the army’s weaponry,’ he told her with a cheeky smile, ‘that they won’t risk sending me back into action until I’m fighting fit.’

  She hugged him tight and battled back tears.

  Sunday, 18 October

  It’s been a quiet week. Mum’s missing Des. So am I. It really enjoyed talking to him, especially when it was just the two of us at night. The evening before he left he praised me for my diary writing and letter collecting.

  ‘I’ve only read a little of what you’ve written, Archie,’ he told me. ‘I was too busy having fun and talking to everybody but rest assured, Archie, what you’ve recorded will one day mean a lot to our family.’

  Tuesday, 20 October

  The newspaper continues to report good news. Our Diggers have overcome strong Japanese resistance at a place called Templeton’s Crossing. I know the name from Des’s diary. Captain Templeton was the old bloke who Des had so much respect for. I wonder if the crossing is where he was killed.

  Friday, 23 October

  Mr Jensen and I had a really big delivery round today. I was worried I wouldn’t finish in time to meet Slim at the picture theatre. Mr Jensen detoured near to home then Uncle Jim dropped me off in town just as the lights dimmed for the Cinesound newsreel. I was spellbound – it was a documentary titled Kokoda Frontline. It showed all the things Des and Harold have talked about: the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels carrying our wounded, the soldiers fighting and weary men moving along the jungle Track. The narrator was the man who shot the footage. He described the militiamen as magnificent fighters and said they were some of the finest and toughest soldiers in the world. He should know because he was close to the action – how else could he have got the footage. Wait till I tell Mum – she’ll be so proud.

  The main feature was really good too. It was a war movie called Wake Island. It showed US soldiers on Wake Island fighting to prevent the Japanese from landing. I hope the Americans fight as hard as they did in the film when they join up with Australian soldiers in New Guinea.

  The Japanese had more planes, ships and troops than the Americans who repelled their attacks until they ran low on ammo. The Japs gave the Americans one last chance to surrender but the major in charge signalled back, ‘Come and get us.’ He sat and wrote a letter to his daughter knowing he’d never see her again. The film had a sad ending. All the Americans were killed.

  I don’t know whether the story’s true or not but I do know Des shouldn’t see it: it would remind him of his friends who died on the Kokoda Track.

  Sunday, 25 October

  Generals Blamey and MacArthur aren’t happy with the speed with which the Australians are pushing the Japanese back. They say they should have pushed them out of Templeton’s Crossing more quickly or gone around them. Even I know that’s not possible. The Track is narrow and the jungle almost impassable. If they’re such great commanders, why don’t they join the Diggers on the frontline and see what conditions are like. After reading Des’s diary, I know that jungle fighting is hell and every inch of ground gained comes at a cost of blood. Why don’t the generals know that? Or do they know it and not care?

  Wednesday, 28 October

  Letters arrived from Des and Harold today.

  Friday, 23 October 1942

  Dear Mum and Archie,

  You’ll be pleased to hear I’m safe and well. The shoulder is healing very nicely according to the camp doctor. I’m prohibited from doing some of the training and yet no fatigue is considered too difficult for me (like cleaning the latrines and ablutions block).

  I’ve been told that the 39th has marched down from the cool of the mountains to the prickly heat of the Morseby coast. They’re helping to reinforce the local defences. I’d love to be with them. The lads here are friendly but they’re not my closest mates. I forged the strongest friendships while fighting on the Track.

  Your son and brother, Des

  October 1942

  Thelma and Des.

  I don’t know how much Des has told you but I’ve had a couple of setbacks. Before you start worrying, Mum, let me tell you I’m on the mend. My leg’s been a bit slow to heal but now that they’ve got my malaria under control, I should soon be shipped to Australia where conditions are much healthier. From what I hear (and it comes as no surprise), our lads are striking strong resistance on the Track. The Japs are withdrawing but refuse to be rushed. My visitors have told me horror stories about the state of the enemy dead: they’re emaciated and disease riddled. They’re malnourished and their wounds haven’t received even basic medical care. How they kept fighting for so long beggars belief. Many of the bodies are booby-trapped. The wounded, who have been abandoned by their officers, await our lads with a grenade in each hand. They die fighting.

  On a brighter note, seventy Aussie nurses arrived by ship today. Suddenly, everyone who’s not a patient wants to visit someone who is. And anyone who is a patient seems to require urgent attention. It’ll be just my luck if I’m immediately shipped back to Australia and miss out on their hands-on care.

  Harold

  Friday, 30 October

  Radio reports claim a mighty British victory over the Germans in North Africa around a town called El Alamein. The battle was mainly fought using tanks, a weapon that would be useless in the Owen Stanleys. The good news came when I’d almost forgotten about the war in Europe. My focus has been well and truly on fighting the Japanese, and rightly so. They’re the immediate threat to Australia and my family. The report I heard claims the British victory will turn the tide of war in North Africa because the Germans can no longer get their hands on the rich oil fields in and around Persia. Oil seems to be what both the German and Japanese wars are largely about. Now that both aggressors’ armies have been stopped in their tracks, perhaps we’re moving towards peace on both sides of the globe.

  ‘The tide might be turning,’ Uncle Jim said, ‘but I fear there’s a lot of water to go under the bridge before peace is restored.’

  Later

  This evening’s radio news reported the Australians have also had a victory: they’ve retaken Eora village.


  ‘Next stop is Kokoda,’ Cousin Stanley said after examining his map. ‘It will be a very proud moment when the Australian flag is once more flying above Kokoda.’

  Sunday, 1 November

  Slim and I picked up a lot of money in tips today – and a lot of gossip. The Americans are very excited.

  ‘We’re about to fly out and have our first taste of battle,’ one told me.

  ‘New Guinea will soon be in Allied hands,’ another announced. ‘Who knows, sonny, we may be back playing snooker before Christmas.’

  The men were not very discrete. ‘One of our battalions is already foot-slogging up and over the Owen Stanleys along a secret track. They’ll join up with your lads at the other end of the Kokoda Track and then our combined forces will send the Japanese packing.’

  But they were very confident. ‘Our Intelligence reports that the Japanese troops based on the north coast are few in number and are defending poorly built entrenchments. They’ll be a pushover.’

  ‘The Aussies might have had trouble putting the Japs in their place but we won’t,’ I heard one boast as he left the hall.

  As we tidied up at the end of the day, Slim asked me if what they were saying was true.

  ‘They may be right about some things,’ I replied, ‘but I know two things they said are very wrong – our Diggers are excellent soldiers and the Japanese are not push-overs. Des and Harold told me that and they should know.’

  Monday, 2 November

  Kokoda’s been retaken. Everyone at home and at work is thrilled. I was reminded of what Uncle Jim said when Tokyo was bombed – he walked taller around town. I can see that’s how everyone feels after hearing the news.

  ‘Kokoda is two-thirds of the way along the Track,’ Cousin Stanley told us, ‘so our foot soldiers are well on their way to pushing the Japanese back to the north coast.’

  ‘If they retreat that far they’ll be trapped with their backs to the sea,’ Uncle Jim commented.

  ‘They may not get to the coast,’ I added. ‘The American pool players told me they’ll soon be dropped behind the Japanese to cut off their retreat.’

  ‘The Americans are unproven troops,’ Uncle Jim warned. ‘Time will tell if they can cut the mustard.’

  I knew they would because I saw how bravely they fought in the Wake Island film.

  Mum was excited by the thought of defeating the Japs because then Des and Harold will be safe.

  Thursday, 5 November

  Monday, 2 November 1942

  Dear Mum and Archie,

  Just a short note to let you know my shoulder’s almost as good as new. I hope to join my battalion sooner rather than later. I have a mighty reason to do so now—I’ve just heard that our lads have recaptured Kokoda. They’ll soon push the Japs back to the north coast beaches and once they’ve done that, the 39th and I will have the luxury of being flown over the Owen Stanleys. We’ll feel like kings not having to walk up and down those bloody mountains. We’ll be sitting pretty—until we disembark and come face to face with the Japs again. Oh well, what will be, will be. It seems every day now is a step in the right direction.

  Your son and brother, Des

  Friday, 6 November

  Tonight is the best night of my life—Harold is in Townsville. We’ve just returned from visiting him at the hospital. Mum thinks all her Christmases have come at once.

  ‘All my boys are home on Australian soil. That’s every mother’s wish come true.’

  She threw her arms around Harold and me. It’s strange how people cry when they’re happy as well as when they’re sad. Only the immediate family was allowed to see him. The doctors are keen for him to rest after weeks of hard living.

  Mum’s always said Harold’s a man’s man but tonight he allowed Mum to hug him as often as she wanted—and he actually called her Mum. He told us the doctors will allow him out into the garden in a day or two.

  ‘I’ll feel like a baby having to be pushed in a wheelchair.’

  ‘You’ll always be my baby,’ she replied.

  ‘You wouldn’t always have admitted that,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m sure there’s many a time in the past when you wanted to disown me.’

  ‘Never,’ she said and we knew she meant it.

  Harold was bayoneted in the leg. There’s no structural damage. The doctor told him he’ll be as right as rain once the wound heals.

  ‘In the last war you’d almost certainly have lost your leg. Medicine has made mighty progress in the past thirty years.’

  Saturday, 7 November

  Mum visited Harold this morning and said he’s in good spirits.

  ‘Despite everything that’s happened to him, he’s not downcast. It’s obvious his time in the army has been good for him,’ she said. She paused. ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that living for eighteen months in a brutal environment can make anyone a better person?’

  ‘Some people respond well to a crisis,’ Uncle Jim said. ‘It brings out the best in them. Others, who you think are in control of their lives, crumble under pressure.’

  I walked to Slim’s house this afternoon before we went to work. I told him Uncle Jim reckons the number of servicemen in town will decrease rapidly if we keep pushing the Japs back.

  ‘They’ll be redeployed closer to the new frontline,’ I explained.

  ‘If they leave Townsville I might lose my job,’ Slim said, but then added thoughtfully, ‘but I’m the lucky one—the soldiers might lose their lives.’

  Sunday, 8 November

  Mum and I visited Harold this afternoon. We wheeled him outside.

  ‘I feel better already,’ he said with a grin. ‘I haven’t enjoyed being cooped up inside with all those sheilas fussing over me.’

  ‘That’s what nurses are paid to do,’ Mum told him. ‘Who knows, maybe you’ll get attached to one of those young women and settle down with her after the war.’

  He laughed then said, ‘Maybe, Mum, maybe. But first there’s the little matter of teaching the Japs a lesson and sending them home with their tails between their legs.’

  Harold and Mum chatted for some time before he asked her to fetch him a glass of water. When she’d gone inside he asked me how things were at home.

  ‘Really good,’ I said. ‘Mum and I both I like our jo-jobs and the relatives treat us like we’re part of their family. They t-talk to me like a gr-grown-up and let me do things that Mum d-didn’t used to let me do.’

  ‘I can see you’ve changed, Archie. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother to you in the past. Des always stuck by you and did things with you.’

  ‘He’s m-more my age.’

  ‘And he’s more family orientated. I was always too angry to think about others.’

  ‘Why were you angry?’

  ‘Because of what happened to the old man. He had a terrible time. Went off to fight for his country and came back a broken man. I had energy to burn and needed a strict father to whip me into line but he was always crook, so I ran wild, especially after he died. I gave Mum a lot sleepless nights. I’m sorry for that now.’

  He stopped talking when he saw Mum approaching carrying a jug of water and three glasses. ‘Give her a hand, mate.’

  I helped by holding the glasses while she filled them.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said and we tapped glasses. ‘Here’s to the end of the war.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Harold said with a smile. ‘And I’d like to propose another toast: to the best mother a man could have.’

  Mum blushed with embarrassment.

  Harold smiled. ‘Hey, Thelma,’ he said, ‘what’s this I hear about you trotting about with some Yankee air force fellow?’ She blushed an even deeper red.

  ‘It was brief and it didn’t work out,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re not upset.’

  ‘Hardly,’ he replied. ‘I want you to have some fun, Mum. I’ve seen enough death in the past eighteen months to know that you’ve got to make the most of life. Seriously, Thelma, get yourself another fe
llow if that’s what you want. Don’t let us boys stand in your way. That’s right, isn’t it, Archie?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘And while you’re at it, see if you can fix the young fellow up with a sheila too.’

  I think I may have blushed even more than Mum.

  Monday 9, November

  Mr Jensen and I delivered ice to Beefy’s house late today. As we climbed down from the wagon he told me to stick close to him if I was worried about being bullied.

  ‘It’s all r-right,’ I told him. ‘I s-sorted the problem out.’

  He looked carefully at me then asked, ‘With whose help?’

  ‘No-one’s,’ I said with a smile. ‘Beefy and I have made our p-peace.’

  ‘Impressive,’ he replied as we walked inside carrying a block of ice each. When I went back down the hallway to collect a third block, Beefy stepped in front of me. I was immediately on my guard despite the brave face I’d put on in front of Mr Jensen.

  ‘I heard about your brother,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Archie. I hope his wound’s not bad. My father … was … bayonetted.’ He looked down. ‘He died in Syria..’

  Before I could think of something to say, he ran into his room and shut the door. I heard him crying and felt sorry for him.

  Tuesday 10, November

  Des is back. He arrived just as we were sitting down to eat this evening. Everyone was really excited until he said it’s final Leave before he’s shipped back to New Guinea. Mum’s face dropped.

  ‘But your shoulder,’ she said.

  ‘It’s as good as gold,’ he replied.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ Auntie Dorothy said. She examined the wound. ‘Much improved.’