by Peter Watt
EPILOGUE
Glen View
Lutheran Mission Station
1934
The tall, broad-shouldered young man stood respectfully waiting for the old Aboriginal to speak again. The sun was low on the horizon and the heat of the day disappearing. In a short time a soft, orange glow would herald the appearance of the stars in the moonless night.
Wallarie tapped his pipe against the hardwood club beside him and turned his head towards the orange ball hovering over the plains.
‘You still here?’ he asked, knowing full well that he had entranced this young man with his story. ‘The bumbil tree I sit under was young when I was young,’ he sighed. ‘It will still be here when you and I have become one with the sky above.’
Wallarie sensed that the young man was reluctant to leave him, and the woman who had stood behind the young man earlier in the afternoon was long gone from their presence.
‘You said it was 1918 when it all happened,’ the young man said. ‘That was the year the Great War ended. I was only three years old.’
Wallarie turned to the young man who had squatted with his back towards the west.
‘I have more tobacco to give to you if you tell me what happened that year to change everything.’
‘The ancestor spirits were angry and sent the death that took away many people,’ Wallarie said. ‘The Great War between the whitefellas you speak of ended for all except Tom Duffy. He went to a place of great cold to fight more whitefellas. He was a great warrior. But I am tired and the mother of your mother is in the house. You should go to her.’
The young man rose to his feet, frustrated that the story had come to an end for the day. Wallarie was little more than a charlatan, he scoffed to himself as he walked to the verandah. He was just an old man spinning stories as incredible as those he told about the young man’s own ancestors. Tales of his magic were little more than the imagination of poorly educated European stockmen and the nomadic Aboriginals who had taken up residence on the Glen View lands, working beside the European cattlemen for flour, sugar and tea.
The young man’s grandmother stepped from the house to inform him that dinner would be served shortly. ‘Oh, look at that!’ she gasped. ‘Is it not beautiful?’
The young man turned to see what had attracted her attention and caught sight of a great wedge-tailed eagle soaring skywards above the bumbil tree. He suddenly felt fearful. Wallarie was no longer sitting cross-legged under the tree. He had simply disappeared. But the young man reassured himself that this was nothing more than a coincidence.
As he returned to the house the eagle flapped its wide wings and flew towards the dying sun. The young man froze in his tracks. Had he imagined or actually heard the old Aboriginal’s voice? ‘You come back tomorrow. I will tell you what happened in your year of 1918.’
AUTHOR NOTES
From the Sudan campaign of 1885 to the time of writing, the official death toll of Australians who have died for their country totals 102,814.
During World War One alone we lost 61,513 of the above figure, and that does not take into account those returning men who died some years later as a direct result of their wounds. That is why, even today, on 11 November each year, we pause to reflect on The Great War of 1914–19 and its impact on our young nation.
The terrible loss of life between those years must be seen in the context of our small population at the time; there were very few homes that did not mourn the loss of a beloved member who had volunteered to go overseas to fight for King and Empire. I have reflected this in the deaths of three central characters in this family saga.
I did not intend to write a military history of the battles Australians fought as this has been done in a very readable style by Les Carlyon in his magnificent The Great War (Pan Macmillan, Sydney, 2006). I would strongly recommend that it be read to gain an understanding of the historically significant role our forces played in changing the course of history in the early part of the 20th century.
Many years ago, while I was an infantry officer with the Army Reserve 1/19 Battalion of the Royal New South Wales Regiment, I had the fortune to dine with veterans of our unit from World War One in the officers’ mess. In discussions with a Lewis gunner and the battalion’s adjutant, I asked if the places they had fought at had a great meaning to them at the time they took part in the major battles. They replied that, during the fighting, their only concern was to stay alive in the tiny piece of battlefield they occupied, and that grand strategy had little interest to them. Many former veterans of any war would tell you the same thing – that their main concern at the time is that little piece of ground they occupy. For it is on that section of a battlefield that they either live or die. So this novel concerns a little piece of battlefield and excludes the tactics and planning of politicians and generals.
I remember a story that the old Lewis gunner told me that night at the dinner table. He had received shrapnel wounds to the lower part of his body at Mont St Quentin. As a result of his wounds a certain part of his anatomy was put in plaster and he was then granted medical leave in Paris. He turned to me with a sad expression, saying, ‘What bloody good was leave to me in Paris with that kind of wound?’ Sixty-five years later the story proved to be funny to the listener – but not at the time to a young, red-blooded Aussie digger in the fleshpot of France. I have mentioned Private Dan Frogan in passing and wanted to make a note that his grandson of the same name lives in the Clarence Valley and has become something of a sporting legend achieving legendary feats not unlike those accomplished by his grandfather.
Needless to say the story has not ended. In the next instalment of the saga I will take the reader to 1918. In that year it could go either way as to who would win the terrible war as the events of the Russian revolution released German troops from the Eastern Front to the Western Front. In that year too Aussie diggers fought their most important battles, turning the tide against Germany for the final victory. We will see that story through the experiences of Sergeant Tom Duffy, and we will see the family story continue through the eyes of those still left alive in their struggle for control of sacred land and a family fortune.
The year 1918 also saw a horrific pandemic come to the world. It caused more deaths in a matter of weeks than all the years of battlefield casualties combined. It was a year that changed the course of history in ways that we have lived with although not knowing the reasons why.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A few readers have contacted me to say that they enjoy reading the acknowledgments because it is like an author’s newsletter. I guess in many ways I could also call this section my annual report to readers.
To start with I would like to thank my publisher, Cate Paterson, for her ongoing support, and congratulate Cate on her new position as head of the publishing department at Pan Macmillan. Fortunately, James Fraser, whose position Cate has gone into, will still be around so that I can shout him a cold ale when I am in Sydney. Over the years, James has always been one of my strongest supporters and I want to thank him for that.
When it comes to the hard miles developing a novel, Catherine Day works just as hard as I do on the manuscript and my heartfelt thanks to Catherine for her wonderful style of editing.
In the publicity department I have lost my dear friend Jane Novak to fresh fields but would like to acknowledge all those years we spent on the road, putting our livers at risk with the many functions we attended from one end of Australia to the other. So now a welcome to Louise Cornegé, who has joined Pan Macmillan, and a promise I will ensure her liver does not suffer as did Jane’s and mine.
A special thank you to my old friend and agent, Geoffrey Radford, for his ongoing support. As each year passes I appreciate his efforts even more.
To the three men working on the Frontier project – Irvin Rockman, CBE, and Rod and Brett Hardy – my very special thanks for all the truly professional work that has gone into developing the concept for television. It will only be a matter of time.
Congratulations to Kevin Jones, OAM, for receiving overdue recognition this year with his award in the Australia Day honours list. Needless to say, Maureen and family also deserve to wear the medal for all their support of Kevin’s hours away from home while serving the community.
Congratulations also go to my old mate Larry Gilles for becoming an Aussie citizen. He is the only Yank I know who puts half a jar of vegemite on his toast and on those grounds alone I think the government decided to grant him citizenship.
I would like to thank a wonderful young lady, Kristie Hilderbrand, for setting up a Facebook website for my readers. Kristie has provided a means for me to keep readers up to date with news, photos and prizes.
For the day-to-day support that I get from those around me I thank Jan Dean and her sister, Eve Hunt, Mick and Andrea Prowse, Fran MacGuire, Dr Louis Trichard and his wife, Christine, and John and Isabel Millington.
On a sadder note I wish to express my condolences to Col Bambrick’s family for his passing late last year. Col was a reader who served his country as a national serviceman in Vietnam.
For my old mate John Blackler, APM, and his wonderful wife, Judy, my thanks for all the research material you have sent. John is one of the most prominent former policemen whose academic and practical work has added so much to the field of criminology.
A special thank you to an Australian icon, Kay Cottee, AO, for her compassionate care of my dear sister, Kerry McKee, whose health has deteriorated. Kay still has her love for the sea with her vital work in marine rescue.
And last but not least, a mention of author colleagues Dave Sabben, MG, Tony Park, Steve Horne and Simon Higgins; a thank you for your friendship and many shared bottles of red wine.
For Naomi, these acknowledgments and the books I write would not exist without your love and support.
Postscript
As many of my friends have been recognised by Australia for their service above and beyond what is required, I am providing this explanation to those not familiar with post-nominals.
CBE Commander of the Order of the British Empire. For Irvin’s services to the Australian community.
MG Medal for Gallantry. For Dave’s service as a platoon commander during the battle of Long Tan. He is also an author.
AO Officer of the Order of Australia. Kay was the first woman to complete a solo, non-stop circumnavigation of the world. She is also an author.
APM Australian Police Medal. Awarded to John for his considerable and distinguished service to the NSW Police. He is also an author.
OAM Medal of the Order of Australia. For Kevin’s long and important voluntary service to many communities that he has lived in over the years.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: 1916
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
PART TWO: 1917
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR NOTES
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS