Searching for Sofia, page 16
While the natural world responded to instincts to grow and multiply, humans were preparing to destroy or be destroyed.
Finally, they were at war! Who could believe it? Jack wondered.
In bed that night, a restlessness descended upon him, and he found it impossible to sleep. Thoughts of Sofia consumed him; she was in Europe, and war was imminent. How could he get to her? She was alone in the world, and whether she wished to see him or not, Sofia was his wife. It was his duty to ensure her safety! He needed to be over there, and enlisting in Australia’s armed forces seemed to offer the best solution.
* * *
The day after Menzies’ announcement, Jack visited his parents. As he’d anticipated, they were in shock. His own hazy memories of the Great War were fashioned through the obscure lens of childhood, when he’d been sheltered from stories of bombs exploding, shattered buildings and the deaths of a generation of young Australian men. However, for his parents, the announcement of war resurrected memories of four years of horror, death and destruction, the effects of which still lingered for many of their friends.
Marian was convinced that this time, Australia would hold back. ‘Certainly, we might send a few enlisted soldiers to Europe, but that would be all. We couldn’t possibly risk the lives of tens of thousands of young boys the way we did in the Great War.’ Her words were as much a question as a statement.
‘But Mum, what if the Germans come here? Surely it is best to stop them in their tracks while they are in Europe.’
‘Yes, but haven’t we got the Militia to do that? They will protect our borders. That’s what they’re there for!’
‘Marian, how on earth could the Militia protect Australia’s borders? We have thousands of miles of unoccupied land. An enemy could gain a foothold anywhere they liked, and we wouldn’t even know about it for a month!’
‘Do you think that you should get your old job back at Goldsbrough, Mort & Co., Jack? Then you might be spared from being called up!’
‘Mum, no. I won’t be doing that!’ It horrified Jack that his mother could even suggest such a thing. During the Great War, his father had been spared active duty—his work deemed essential—a fact that his mother was thankful for, but which Jack knew had sat heavily on William’s conscience. More than once he’d heard his father state his regret that he’d been at home listening to news of the terrible losses of young men in Gallipoli and the Western Front and not alongside them, shouldering his share of the burden.
Before he left his parents’ house, Jack spoke to his father alone. ‘Dad, I intend to go when we get the call.’
William nodded, and said quietly, ‘We won’t worry your mother about that for now. Perhaps things won’t come to that after all.’ His hollow tone suggested that, like Jack, his father doubted war was avoidable.
* * *
Although the talk of war, followed by Menzies announcement, dominated most people’s thoughts and conversations, it seemed that for John and Sunday, Menzies announcement acted as a catalyst akin to a starter gun in a foot race. A race to get the CAS exhibition over and done with before Australia was totally swamped by the war that was surely coming. It was as though they believed that by stepping up their preparations for the exhibition; making posters, submitting the final news articles, discussing rosters for the door, selecting the clothing they would wear and the champagne to be consumed, then perhaps they could thwart Hitler’s relentless quest to drag the world into war.
Jack listened to their plans, offered his opinion when asked and agreed that he’d be happy to man the door and escort dignitaries to tables, along with Cynthia and Margaret. However, of far greater importance to him were the updates of the nations’ impending commitment to the war. Daily, he and Neil discussed the issues, although they seemed to raise far more questions than answers. What would the war mean to the everyday lives of Australians? When would they enter the battle? Where would the fighting begin? When and how would Menzies raise troops to be sent to Britain’s aid? It was obvious, by the newspapers’ articles, that others shared their concerns. And even though people dreaded the thought of a war, waiting for answers to these questions proved equally frustrating.
Many believed that Australia should be sending troops to Britain immediately, although there was confusion about the nature of such a force. At present, the only army Australia had was the Militia—a force of peacetime volunteers, whose role was limited to defending Australian soil. And for all of the enthusiasm of those who believed ‘we should get over there’, when the British Parliament passed a bill for conscription, a second wave of debate arose about Australia’s ability to support a war in Europe.
‘They’ll be useless, Jack,’ Neil insisted. ‘The service has never been trained for overseas action, and most of the men will have far too many demands on their personal lives, what with their work and families, to agree to fight a war on the other side of the world.’
Certainly, the newspapers described the Militia as utterly ill-prepared and under-equipped.
‘Maybe they will call for conscripts,’ said Jack.
‘Yeah... well, that will be a circus. We’ve never accepted it in the past, so I can’t see it working now. It will be a brave government to suggest it.’
Many shared Neil’s view. A widespread argument went that conscription ballots were rigged, skewed to send the sons of the less affluent into battle, while the sons of wealthy families were spared. And those of the Militia who’d stepped forward and volunteered themselves as professional soldiers, equally opposed conscription. They argued that if you were going to stand in a trench with a gun in your hand, you wanted someone beside you who’d chosen to be there, not some snivelling coward who’d been forced into the battle against his will.
Jack conceded that the view of the Militia had merit, and henceforth his mind was made up. He would not wait to be conscripted into an Australian army and forever be viewed as an unwilling participant to the battle! He’d step up and enlist at the first opportunity. He wanted to get to Europe and stop the Germans in their tracks. And also, by getting to England, he could stop the constant worrying and wondering about Sofia and instead find her.
And when Jack saw an article asking volunteers for the Second Australian Imperial Forces to present themselves at their nearest recruitment office, of which a number of addresses were included, he never hesitated.
Chapter 16
Jack rose early and was on the train and travelling into the city after John had left for work, but before Sunday rose. Beyond telling his father the previous month, Jack had not discussed his intention to enlist with anybody; he wanted to be sure that he was eligible before sharing his plans.
Descending the stairs, Jack had paused under the clocks, checking the torn newspaper article for the street number of the recruitment office for the dozenth time. He needn’t have bothered, for as soon as he turned onto Elizabeth Street, he saw a crowd of men gathered outside a grey building. Men of every size, shape and age: young, old, short, tall, bespectacled or not. Some—surely they were merely boys—had arrived in groups. Listening to their banter, Jack could tell that they were excited about the prospects of an adventure in the offering. He smiled as they ribbed each other about heroes and cowards: Who was the best shot and who was likely to run home to their mothers at the first scratch. They reminded him of times past—his senior years at school—when such teasing had underpinned the bonds of friendship.
An older man stood to one side; he was also watching the young lads, concern in his eyes. He must be at least fifty, Jack thought, surprised. The advertisement cited the age bracket for those enlisting as eighteen to thirty-five years. From the man’s grey hair and trimmed moustache, upright stance and resolute expression, Jack suspected that he was a man who’d served in the military before—that he knew the call to arms was no laughing matter, but a duty not to be shirked. He was right, of course. The city was full of diggers of the Great War, with broken bodies, missing limbs and only a bottle of whiskey to cheer their damaged souls—leaving no doubts that the battlefield created far more casualties than heroes.
‘Next!’ The female voice echoed through the open doorway, and it was Jack’s turn to step through. Inside, the lady ushered him towards her desk.
‘Welcome, sir. Before we start, I need you to fill out this form.’ Without waiting for him to speak, she gave him the cream-coloured paper and waved him towards a trestle table at the side of the room. ‘You will find a seat over there. Pen and inkwells, too. Let me know if you have any questions.’
Seated, Jack glanced around the room, where other men were in the process of completing their forms. He focused on the paper before him, reading the ornate heading—Attestation Form. In the spaces indicated, he recorded his name, age, address, occupation, religion, educational qualifications, previous service experience. He added ‘yes’ to Married, and ‘Sofia Tomlinson’ in the space titled Spouse. Children—Yes? No? There was no provision to acknowledge Scotty, to recognise a child who was no more. Swallowing hard, he left it blank and returned to the lady seated at the desk.
‘That was quick. Looks good. No questions? Okay, that’s step one completed. You must pass a medical examination now. It should only take a few minutes. Go through that door, you’ll see a bench. Wait there and one of the doctors will call you when he’s ready.’
Jack nodded at the two men already seated on the bench seat as they made space for him. After light chat about the surprising number of blokes who’d turned up and where they were from and how bad the troubles in Europe were, he found himself called into the office of a smiling-faced doctor.
‘Good morning, young man. How are you? All fit and ready to serve your country? Well done. We need more men like you—eager to take on the enemy. Let’s just slip your shirt and trousers off, can we? Down to your underwear. That’s right.’
Standing in his singlet and underpants, Jack followed the doctor’s instructions to breathe and hold and bend and stretch.
It only took ten minutes to record his baseline details. Height and weight—a bit thin, the doctor told him; chest—clear; eyes—twenty-twenty; hearing—excellent, he’d be able to hear the footsteps of a beetle from a hundred yards away. Next, Jack answered a series of questions regarding his medical history. Past illnesses? Hospitalisations? Family history? And then it was over.
Nodding approvingly, the doctor signed his form. There were no impediments; Jack was fit and ready for duty.
All that remained were the signatures—the official recording of his acceptance of enlistment—and for that, Jack was shuffled to another bench, where, again, he waited for his name to be called.
This time, it was two men in uniform who greeted him; again, cheerful types who were keen to welcome him into the brotherhood of the military.
‘G’day, mate. You’ve joined up. Well done to you. We’re very grateful to have you on board.’
‘Yes. Thanks. It’s all new to me, of course, but I have been keen to enlist ever since I heard that we were at war.’
‘That’s the way. You’re almost there. The medical went well; that’s the main thing. Now we just need to complete the official pledge and signing. Are you ready?’
Jack was, and following their instructions, he looked at the last paragraph on the Attestation Form, “The Oath of Enlistment.”
He never faltered as he read the lines.
‘I, Jack William Tomlinson, swear that I will well and truly serve our Sovereign Lord, the King, in the Military Forces of the Commonwealth of Australia until the cessation of the present time of war and twelve months thereafter or until sooner lawfully discharged, dismissed, or removed, and that I will resist His Majesty's enemies and cause His Majesty's peace to be kept and maintained, and that I will in all matters appertaining to my service faithfully discharge my duty according to law.
So help me, God.’
‘Good work, Tomlinson. Now all that’s needed is your signature. There. That’s the way.’
He signed, they signed, and then there was a shaking of hands.
‘Congratulations, Recruit Tomlinson. It’s official. You are now enlisted in the Second Australian Imperial Force’s 17th Brigade. Further details of your appointment will be mailed to you in the next few days. Pleased to have you on board, Recruit Tomlinson!’
Their jovial tone was underpinned by officialdom, and again, Jack accepted their handshakes. He glanced down at the completed paperwork, the ink wet upon the page, and knew he had done the right thing. A new chapter was about to begin and he was ready for it. For twelve months, his life had been on hold. He’d restored his physical health, and his mind had become much clearer. Losing Scotty remained ever painful, but it had lost its gut-wrenching punch. Now, each night as he prepared for sleep, Jack had adopted the ritual of first thinking of his little man, picturing him as one might a cherubic angel, sweet and whole, with laughter and mischief in his eyes. He’d bid him good night before turning his thoughts to Sofia—thoughts which varied from week to week, from an internal cry of where are you? to hoping she was safe, to imagining her in his arms. Sometimes he whispered to her, promising that he would find her, that he would never hurt her again. Other times he’d feel bitterness, frustrated that she’d abandoned him and their marriage, vanishing and leaving him helpless to do anything. Mostly, though, he was worried for her safety and state of mind, and despaired at the tortured thoughts that had led her to flee from himself and from Australia.
But living at Heide was a temporary arrangement; Jack knew that. He neither could, nor did he wish to, live in the Reeds’ spare bedroom forever. The onset of war offered the impetus for change. He’d get to Europe and once there, he would find Sofia and see what the future held for them.
* * *
As he stepped out into the sunshine, Jack was surprised to see the swell of men had almost trebled from what it had been an hour earlier. Already he felt different as he wove between them, nodding and smiling, replying ‘Thanks, mate,’ to the comments of ‘Good on ya, cobber,’ and ‘Well done, mate.’
Walking back to Flinders Street Station, Jack felt energised and keen to share his news with somebody. He phoned Margaret from the station and could tell from her voice that she was pleased to hear from him. Usually, it was she who did the contacting.
‘Fancy you ringing me, Jack—to what do I deserve the honour? It’s not bad news, is it? Is everything alright?’
‘Of course everything’s alright,’ Jack gave the obligatory response, although he knew that, of all people, Margaret was least likely to take the news of his enlistment well. ‘I was just wondering if you’d like to catch up for a pint after work.’
‘Sure—the Latin? We’ll have a pint and some fish and chips, shall we?’
They agreed to meet at five thirty, and hanging up, Jack decided that at the end of the evening he’d return to Copelin Street and spend the weekend with his parents.
When he got back to Heide, Sunday and Nolan were in the kitchen, chattering with excitement. They’d decided to paint a series of paintings depicting Ned Kelly.
‘What could be more Australian than a series of our most famous bushranger?’ Sunday exclaimed, clearly thrilled with the project.
‘Sure, Sunday. That would be interesting.’ Jack found it best to go along with whatever Sunday’s ideas were, although he could hardly imagine how Ned Kelly, a murderous bushranger of the previous century, could be incorporated into a modern art style. Glancing at the table, he saw their sketches. Bold images of the unusual steel helmet that Ned Kelly famously wore. Backgrounds in strong colours. It would be interesting to see what she and Nolan could do with the theme. And there was no argument from him that the idea was both original and Australian.
‘What have you been up to?’ Sunday squinted as she quizzed him. Her curiosity wasn’t surprising; it was almost unheard of for Jack to leave Heide for a whole morning without mentioning his plans.
‘I’ve joined the army, Sunday! I couldn’t help myself. Ever since Menzies announced that we were at war, it’s played on my mind.’
Their responses came in a blur of each other’s words.
‘Wow, Jack. That’s a big step... You are a better man than me!’ Nolan offered.
‘Oh no, Jack! Why? Who would have thought? I don’t know what to say! I hate to think of you going to war. Don’t you get any ideas, Sidney! Now it feels like it’s really happening. As if our lives will never be the same! Are you sure you’ll be okay, Jack? And what about the exhibition?’
‘I’m not sure if anything about war is safe, Sun, but the point of enlisting is so that our homes here in Australia can be safe. And the exhibition is only two weeks away... I don’t expect they’ll have me facing the Jerries before then!’
‘What will your parents say? Poor things. And you their only son. How awful for them!’
‘Hey! Don’t write me off, Sunday! I plan to be a hero—I am not bad with a gun, you know!’ He laughed as she rolled her eyes at him. ‘I’m going to stay with Mum and Dad this weekend; I’ll tell them then. I am more worried about telling Margaret this evening. If I survive her reaction, I’ll survive the Germans, that’s for sure!’
* * *
Margaret, as he’d expected, was furious.
‘Enlisted! For heaven’s sake, Jack, why? This is not Australia’s war! Menzies can say what he likes about the Mother Country and our duty to the Empire, blah, blah blah. Just because they’ve chosen to start a war, I don’t see why we have to be dragged into it, too.’
‘Yes, but if we don’t get in and help now, the Germans might end up on our doorstep!’
‘That’s ridiculous. Why on earth would the Germans invade Australia? We are thousands of miles away—a bloody little island on the other side of the world. What on earth could they possibly want from us?’
