Published: 9 Jan 2023
Chapter 6
Early evening with the Parker family gathered for the evening’s meal. It was Friday and Winnie, as she was not rostered for Saturday morning, was home for the weekend helping May set the meal table and describing a new line of dresses that arrived from Sydney during the previous day. The boys are listing to a programme on the wireless while Alf is attempting to have a quiet smoke, as he reads the daily news but was finding the music distracting.
“Could you turn that rot down a little?”
Owen obliges as May calls from the kitchen, “I was listening to that.”
“I’m trying to read,” Alf responds.
“Alf I hope you’re not smoking in the house again?”
“No love,” Alf says and butts his cigarette.
“Then there must be a bushfire somewhere,” May acerbically answers.
“Probably so,” Alf says and waves away the remaining smoke with his hand, loudly coughing up the last of the smoke from his lungs.
Owen gives a chuckle and a poke to Alf’s arm, “You’ll cop it dad,” he says.
“Have you read today’s Cairns Post?” Alf asks Owen.
“No I haven’t had the time.”
Alf reads aloud the headline from the leading story: Bitter clashes in battle for Tulagi,” he pauses, “where is Tulagi?” he asks.
“Dunno’;” Owen answers.
“What about you Gavin you’re the expert on that sort of thing, where is Tulagi?”
“Dunno’;” Gavin repeats his brother’s answer.
“That would be a first,” Owen mocks.
Alf reads on: “The attacks are concentrated on the islands of Florida and Guadalcanal,” Alf gives a satisfying nod, “Guadalcanal now we have a fair idea where Guadalcanal is, so Tulagi would also be in the Solomon Islands.”
Owen begins to show interest, “what else does it say?”
Alf continues with his reading:
“The spearhead of the US marines have consolidated some positions in the face of bitter opposition from Japanese resistance, who doggedly hold against ground troops and the attacking from both war ships and aircraft.
“You lot dinner is on the table,” Winnie calls from the dining room.”
Alf folds the paper aside.
“What else did it say?” Owen asks.
“Only that the information from MacArthur’s headquarters is somewhat sketchy. Owen, -;” there is a calculated pause before Alf continues, “I remain unhappy with you going to Port Moresby with Chip,”
“That fighting is nowhere near Port Moresby,” Owen protests.
“Anyway where are the Solomon Islands in relation to New Guinea?” Alf asks.
“They are at the end of a long chain of islands leading south east from Papua,” Owen explains from his limited understanding of the Pacific and its many islands.
“From New Guinea,” Gavin quietly challenges.
“Same thing,” Owen argues.
“Tis’ not, New Guinea is in the north of the island and was German territory and we were given a mandate over it after the first world war, Papua is in the south and to belongs to us.”
“It mostly belongs to the Japs at the moment,” Owen contradicts with an ironic chuckle.
“Never mind the pedantry, what I wish to know is how far would Port Moresby be from Guadalcanal?” Alf asks while reopening the newspaper to view the small map supplied.
“In my reckoning it would be a thousand miles,” Gavin shares as he approaches and uses a finger and thumb to gauge the distance on the paper’s map against a given scale.
“That isn’t far as war goes,” Alf says.
“Mum said she won’t call you again,” Winnie warns from the lounge room door.
Later that night Alf listened with intense interest to the wireless news-hour but mostly it was repeating what he had read in the paper, although there was reporting of the Australian 57th infantry battalion meeting strong resistance along North Kokoda but was holding.
“Jim is with the 57th, Gavin suggests.
“He is,” Alf agrees.
“Strong resistance,” Gavin repeats.
Alf takes a deep breath and addresses Owen, “I’ve spoken with your mother about your little trip,” he says.
Owen turns away from the broadcast in preparation for the worse.
“We have agreed you can go with Chip but neither of us is happy with the decision.”
“Can I go to?” Gavin eagerly chirps.
“No you can’t, it’s bad enough having Jim somewhere in the mountains of New Guinea and Owen with stupid ideas, besides your work here on the farm is far too important.
“So is Owen’s,” Gavin’s complaint trails into mumbling.
Alf then has a though, “if you do go, how long would you be away?” Alf asks as May comes to the lounge room door.
“Chip said no more than overnight, a second day at the most.”
“So I could go,” Gavin again suggests, with both May and Alf voicing a strong negative in unison.
“Owen gets everything.” Gavin complains but his protest remains unrewarded.
“Owen gets everything,” Alf repeats in a tease.
Friday delivery day and Owen is at the airfield but discovered Chip remained away on one of his supply runs, then after filling the truck at the fuel depot it was into town for supplies and a new part for the water pump.
As Owen reached the outskirts of town he was waved aside by an army officer and without giving reason, told to pull to the side of the road. Soon a convoy of trucks carrying troops destined for jungle training on the tablelands passed by. After a good many minutes the troop transporters are followed by larger trucks carrying Matilda tanks and once the convoy had passed, the soldier waved permission for Owen to continue his journey towards town.
Machinery was always a weakness for Owen. The bigger the better and the more power their engines produced the happier he appeared. Tanks were top of his list as he loved the put-put sound of the diesel motors. He had seen their fire power at practice and wondered what it would be like to view the power of the giant German Panzers but for now he needed to concentrate on the list for supplies his mother had given him.
Once outside Pollards general store Owen removed his mother’s list, “Megan-may,” he quizzically questions “where am I to get all this?” he proclaims with a ponderous sigh as he enters and offered up May’s shopping list.
“It’s a long list,” Pollard says and frowns with displeasure, as his ancient face wrinkles like a prune. His spectacles slide down his elongated nose and are pushed back to sight with a long bony finger. He holds them there so they don’t repeat the sliding.
“I guess there isn’t any crime in asking Mr. Pollard,” Owen hopefully responds.
“There isn’t any crime in the asking but I have to account for everything down to the last ounce, the last slice of ham; that is to say if I could get ham.
“Even a slice of ham would be a welcome change these days,” Owen says.
“Too true lad – too true and how is May, I haven’t seen her in town for a while?”
“She is well but mostly complaining there isn’t anything in the pantry.”
“I knew your grandmother,” Pollard says and ignores Owen’s comment on the empty pantry.
“Who, Grandma Parker?”
“No May’s mother Bridget Jonsson. Now there was a fine woman but had more ailments than anyone should have to endure; and not once did I hear her complain.”
“Dad said she was Irish.”
“Irish yes but she married a Swede and she had a temper but would do anything for you, even while unwell herself.”
“Can you fill mum’s list?” Owen impatiently questions as he wishes to be gone, having a busy afternoon ahead.”
“Fill is a tricky word lad and may have only four letters but is more powerful than any you may find in the Oxford dictionary.”
“Not as powerful as the word yes.” Owen adds to the old man’s verbal massaging.
“Or as deliberate as the word no. Which I’m about to issue against most on this list you have produced.”
“I’m sure you will do your best.”
Pollard takes the list and within a short time supplies but half May’s request.
“What about the butter?” Owen asks.
“Coupons?” Pollard simply says.
“Next week.”
“Then I’ll supply the butter next week.”
Owen thanked the man for what he could supply and departed.
There was further disappointment at Hinds Plumbing when Owen explained what was needed for the water pump and offers up the damaged part for inspection.
Sam takes a deep discouraging breath, “sorry lad no can do,” he says.
“Then where could I get it?”
“I could try ordering it but it isn’t an off the shelf part, I could suggest you have Jack Myron at the garage make it but it may take some time,” Sam passes the faulty part back to Owen.
“We need it pretty soon or could lose most of a crop of beans.”
“I tell you what,” Sam says and reaches for a pencil and scrap of butcher’s paper.
He draws a design, “now that is your pump.”
“Yes,”
“So try doing this,” he then explains a way around replacing the part.
“Will it work?” Owen questions.
“I reckon so.”
“I’ll give it a go.”
By the time Owen had finished his business in town it is well past lunch so a quick visit to the Dunlop hotel, for a beer or two and one of the hotel’s counter sandwiches with suspect fillings. Being a working day the hotel bar is quiet but at any time during the working week there would be a number of farmers wishing for company and a an hour or so break from the field.
Owen had finished his sandwich and was about to leave when he was approached by a stranger.
“Aren’t you Alf Parker’s oldest lad?” the stranger asks.
“Second; Jim is older by five years, I’m Owen.”
“Owen yes, you do look similar to your brother, so much you could be twins.”
“Jim is taller.”
“Sorry, I’m Bill Slater a friend of your Uncle Teddy.”
“Oh.”
“Can I refresh your beer?”
“No thank you Mr. Slater, I am driving and was about to leave,” Although Owen express his need to be away his curiosity towards the stranger’s association with his uncle was strong. “How well do you know my Uncle Ted?” he questioned.
“As well as any man I should think – why do you ask?”
“It doesn’t matter but I hardly know Ted at all.”
“I am sure that wasn’t Teddy’s doing,”
“Teddy?”
“Yes he prefers being called Teddy amongst his friends and I do know of the impasse between Teddy and his brother Alf.”
“Impasse? Well Mr. Slater you have a march on me, as I haven’t any idea what your so called impasse is about.” Owen was becoming agitated with the stranger’s familiarity and commenced to move away.
“Is there anything you would like me to convey to Teddy?”
“Mr. Slater, if I have anything to say to my Uncle Ted, I am more than capable of doing so myself.”
Once returned home and after giving May the bad news on more than half that was on her shopping list, Owen was approached by Alf.
“Did you get the part for the pump?”
“No it isn’t in stock and Sam Hinds said the garage could possibly make one but it would take some time.”
“That’s a worry as the paddock is much too large to water by bucket and I don’t think the pump will hold out much longer.”
“Sam made a suggestion; I’ll give it a go.”
“What will you need?” Alf asks.
“Most will be in the shed but I do have a question.”
“Go on.”
“Do you know a bloke called Bill Slater?”
“Yes I know him – why?”
“No reason, only he approached me while having a beer at the Dunlop and thought I was Jim.” Owen waited for an explanation but none was forthcoming, instead Alf offered to help with the pump.
“I should be able to manage it on my own.”
“Righto lad, give me a call if you have a problem.”
Owen had been working on the pump for a good half hour when Gavin arrives off the school bus and noticing his brother at work came from the road across the paddock.
“Mum will have you for wearing your school shoes in the paddock,” Owen warns.
“The ground is dry. How’s it going with the pump?” he asks.
“I didn’t get the part.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Sam Hinds suggested an alternative and you know something, I think it will work. Hand me that spanner.”
Owen gives a quick turn, “there you go – start it up.”
The pump started without hesitation, “it works!” Gavin says.
“Did you doubt?”
“Yes.”
“So did I;” Owen laughs.
“When is your trip to New Guinea?”
“I don’t know as yet as Chip is away but I have a question.”
Gavin listens without interruption.
“Have you heard of a bloke called Bill Slater?”
“No, who is he?”
“All I know he said he is a friend of Ted,”
Both brothers watch as a copious measure of water is pumped into the first row of beans, they remain silent well past it reaching the third row and into the fourth, as if mesmerized by the water’s gently and silent progress.
“What brought you to ask about this Slater bloke?” Gavin eventually asks.
“Only that he said he is a friend to Ted and appeared to know something about Ted and dad. Slater called it an impasse.”
“What is an impasse,” Gavin asks.
“It is something akin to a standoff.”
“What is this Slater like?”
“Too pushy in my opinion and I believe he has knowledge of things that are important to the likes of you, me and Jim.”
“Did you question him?” Gavin asks.
“I wouldn’t give him the time of day, as I believe it should be either Ted or dad who gives the answers, not some boozy stranger in a hotel bar but for now and to honor dad, I think we should put it aside.”
“Where’s Sookie?” Gavin asks as she usually followed either about at close proximity.
“I had to chain her, as she has been next door chasing Joliffe’s chickens again.”
“It’s a wonder she wasn’t attacked by that mongrel the Joliffe’s have.”
“Sookie is a bitch and their dog has balls as big as goose eggs,” Owen laughs.
“So?”
“Do I have to explain the facts of life to you little brother?”
“I’m not dumb but dogs are territorial not matter what their sex is and if the bitch isn’t on heat there can be a scrap.”
“Heat, I’m surprised you know the meaning.”
Gavin’s expression broadens, “you may be surprised at what I know.”
“Yea,” Owen simply says and with his shovel allows the water to flow into the fifth furrow.
As the brothers meandered back to the house through the rows, a second convoy of army trucks arrived from the direction of town heading higher into the tablelands. For a better view they advance to the fence. There were at least fifteen trucks, as Gavin counted each one loudly during their progress, the last three trailed ordnance in the guise of field guns.
“Twenty-five pounders,” Gavin says.
“What are?”
“Those guns, they are twenty-five pounder British Howitzer and can fire a shell for more than seven miles, you could shell Mareeba from here with one of those.”
“You seem to know your guns,” Owen admits.
“Have to if you want to join the army.”
“You’re not still on about enlisting?” Owen discredited.
“Na, the war will be over before I’m of age.”
“Come on it is getting late, Winnie’s coming over for dinner and mum needs a few things for the pot.
After the night’s meal Owen was enjoying a cool breeze on the front verandah. Crickets chirped constantly close by and the soft glare from the verandah light illuminated the oleander leaves at the far corner, where small green and brown tree frogs croaked along with the crickets.
Behind the wire door bumps, as Winnie arrives bringing Owen from his solitude.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Winnie quietly asks.
“Pull up a chair, would you like a beer?” Owen holds up a half bottle in preparation.
“No thank you.”
Owen returns the bottle back to the table, “how do you like working at Jebreen’s?” he asks.
“It isn’t like work at all and I get first choice and discount on any new lines that arrive.”
“You have only been there a short while and already sound like a shop assistant,” Owen laughs.
“What about you Owen, what will you do after the war, when Jim returns and takes over the farm?”
“I haven’t really given it much thought, besides dad is still young so it won’t be for some years before it is handed over to Jim. I guess I’ll simply help out until something comes up.”
“Mum said dad is thinking of retiring from the farm and wants to try something different.”
“Like what?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Dad did say after the war he may try tobacco.”
The wire door again sounds. It is May, “anyone for a game of cards?”
Neither shows interest.
“I’m about to put the kettle on,”
“No thank you Megan-may, I’m just finishing a beer,” Owen declines while displaying high his beer glass in support.
The wire door closes once again and silence remains for some time until Owen gives a chuckle and points towards the oleander bush at the end of the verandah, “you see that little green frog on the leading leaf?”
“No,” Winnie admits.
“It is just to the front of that long green stick.”
“Oh yes I see the cute little fellow.”
“Keep watching.”
A moment later the stick bursts into animation and a small green tree snake devours the defenseless frog.
“Oh that’s cruel.”
“It is life and being a country girl you should realize. I’ve been watching the snake for some time, it started off in the rafters and the dumb frog kept croaking away its position.”
“Life is like that with the strong devouring the weak,” Winnie sighs.
“What brought that on?”
“The war I guess.”
“I was talking with a mate of Ted’s in the Dunlop. Owen pauses and quantifies, “more to point he was talking to me.”
“Who would that be?” Winnie asks.
“Some joker called Slater.”
“Slater?”
“Yes, Bill Slater.”
“And?” Winnie questions.
“And nothing, I was wondering if you knew him.”
“The name is familiar but no I don’t think so. There was a family with that name out near Emerald Hill when I was at school but they moved away years ago. I think the dad’s name was William but he fell from a horse and died.”
“If you don’t know him, it doesn’t matter,” Owen didn’t wish to divulge further.
“Do you know Leah Barker?” Winnie asks.
“Yes from my last school year, she is a plump girl with a round moon face, quite ordinary in my opinion and smelled of onions,” he gives a chuckle, “she had teeth like tombstones.”
“That isn’t a nice thing to say.”
“It is fact.”
“I met her the other day and she is no longer fat or ordinary, quite the opposite. If I remember she once fancied you.”
“Maybe at one time she may have but I didn’t fancy Leah and that is another fact.”
“She has a kid now,” Winnie softly says as if not wanting to be overheard by others.
“What she married?”
“I didn’t say married; no she was flirting with an American airman who promised to marry but was killed during the Coral Sea battle. She is attempting to get compensation from the American forces but they won’t agree.”
“Why not?”
“The child is coloured and the father was white.”
“She must have been kicking around with one of our lot from the native camp,” Owen suggests.
“I think not, what isn’t taken into account is that aborigines don’t throw colour back and over time it is lost completely but I have heard that African’s do and after generations of white babies, a coloured baby can happen. The airman must have had a coloured ancestor, more than likely a slave, as he was from somewhere in the American south, although any mixing of colour on his behalf was strongly denied.”
“That all appears a little complicated.”
“Anyway Leah and her little coloured baby are leaving town and the baby is to be given up to the Catholic orphanage in Townsville. Mind you all this is supposed to be secrete.”
“Some secrete if you know it,”
“Mareeba is a small town and nothing remains hidden for long.”
Owen finishes his beer and removes the empty bottle to a box of dead soldiers, being May’s description of empty bottles, at the end of the verandah. He yawns and stretches while watching his snake stalk another unsuspecting frog. He reaches out and with a cruel laugh he rustles the leaves sending the snake higher into the bush. “One frog lives to croak another day,” he says.
“When are you taking that dumb ride to New Guinea?” Winnie asks distracting Owen’s attention away from the snake.
“Soon I would think. Chip is up there at the moment but should be back in a couple of days.”
“I don’t know how you managed to get mum to agree,”
“Easy, I threatened to join the air force.”
“Would you?”
“No but Megan-may doesn’t know that and don’t you say anything either,” Owen warns as Gavin arrives.
“You’re not listening in to private conversations I hope,” Winnie growls at her younger brother.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Gavin chuckles, “besides I wouldn’t repeat Owen’s little deception.”
“Where are you going?”
“The watering should be finished; I’ll go turn off the pump.
“You better take a torch as I saw a rather large brown snake down by the old tank stand yesterday,” Owen suggests.
Gavin holds his torch up for inspection, “what is this, a bunch of grapes?”
“And go easy with it, as I couldn’t get new batteries, they are also on the rationed list.”
With Gavin gone to attend to the pump Owen returns to conversation about Leah Barker and her coloured baby, “what do you think will happen with Leah’s baby?”
“As I said it is to be given up to the Catholics,”
“Is Leah’s family Catholic?”
“I guess so.”
“Funny thing religion,” Owen says.
“What do you mean funny?”
“There are so many different beliefs and they all think they are right.”
“What do you think Owen?”
“That’s it Winnie, I don’t bother thinking, that way you avoid stupid arguments,” As Owen speaks Gavin returns and flashes the fading beam of torch light into Owen’s eyes.
“Do you want a thumping kid?”
Gavin redirects the beam and turns it off, “I didn’t see your snake by the tank.”
“They don’t hang around waiting for a private viewing you know.”
“By the way your makeshift part is holding out, that was clever thinking.”
“I’ll have to thank Sam Hinds for his advice next time I’m in town,” Owen declares as Gavin takes a seat close by.
“Well!” Owen directs to his brother.
“Well what?”
“You – this is a private conversation and not for your young ears. You have school tomorrow, so don’t you think it’s past your bed time?”
“No,” Gavin disputes.
“Yes it is,” Alf concurs as he arrives and hears the last of the boy’s conversation, “I’m also turning in; so don’t you two jabber on for half the night or you will keep your mother awake.”
“No dad,” Winnie agrees and without further she also retires, leaving Owen to his solitude and darkness as Alf turns off the verandah light.
Owen sinks down into comfortable. There is a cool breeze coming from the high mountains, while the sky is ablaze with starlight and his thoughts are somewhere in the clouds above the Coral Sea, heading for Port Moresby. He can hear Alf’s voice coming from their open bedroom window, May softly answers and Alf gives a low and happy laugh. Owen unconsciously smiles and once again turns his dreaming to his trip. He gives a yawn, ‘suppose it is bedtime and dreaming,’ he thinks and with another yawn he also retires.
Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com
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