Chapter 14

“If you are going to talk politics you can go outside!”

My mother could be pretty forthright when she wanted to be. It was a simple question from Dad. “What’s life like in Canberra?” But that was enough for Mum. She had gone to great lengths to whip up a birthday cake, albeit a late one. Tom made the comment about my birthday being three months before and added that the cake may taste three months old. I was sure that Mum’s eyes could kill when she glared but somehow he survived. They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ after Dad had lit the candles and the cake was brought in with the room in darkness. A Downs tradition Mum had started. As usual the cake was delicious. It’s texture soft and mouth-watering but Mum, being hypercritical said that the sponge was a bit floury. It didn’t worry us as seconds and thirds were squeezed in.

Mum ushered us out of her kitchen after tea, including Tom who often had to help with the washing up. He went over and kissed Mum and whispered his thanks for allowing him to talk with the menfolk outside. Mum was a pretty dab hand with the tea towel and flicked it at his backside with surprising accuracy as he left the room. This was to remind him that criticising her cooking was not allowed.

Dad asked his question again as we stood on the veranda. It was difficult to answer as I didn’t know where he stood. We were in a traditional Country Party blue ribbon seat and I knew Mum tended to lean very much that way. Being a safe seat however, nothing much came our way or ever got done despite the Coalition between the Liberal and Country Party being in power for the last twenty-one years. Dad on the other hand, was possibly more leftward leaning.

I explained that my role was apolitical. The army didn’t take sides. Dad scoffed at the idea saying that the army always took sides, its own. He had no real liking for any politician and Tom asked him why.

“Well you see. There’s a lot of people who like to talk and it seems that each of the electorates picks the loudest bully and sends them to Canberra in the hope that the electorate will get something in return. However, the only thing that they get is a prolonged absence of that person, which in itself is not a bad thing. These people may set off with high ideals but you have to lose those when you get off the plane in Canberra if you are a politician.”

“But Dad, aren’t the government the good guys?” Tom’s naivety was appealing. He had a lot to learn.

“They would like us to think so and that the Opposition are the bad guys. Think back to those westerns you watch. You can recognise the good guys because they are riding white horses and wearing white hats. But in Canberra there’s lot of mud and corruption. The two sides wrestle each other in the mud and no-one can tell who is good or bad as they all look the same. They all smell pretty bad too. Sometimes they do some good things, like deciding that Vietnam is unwinnable and refusing to send more troops there. Why we went there amazes me. The French tried to keep the two sides apart but treated the Vietnamese like lesser beings. The Americans tried to buy favours by supporting one side. They claimed that was part of protecting the world from the ‘yellow peril’ that would sweep down from China and destroy civilization. Even I could see that North Vietnam turned to China for support to kick the French out and join the country together. It was a civil war really between two factions. One was a downtrodden peasant group wanting to follow a more socialist/communist approach and the opposing side was a rich capitalist group who made money off the backs of the downtrodden. America decided that it wanted to determine the outcome and went in boots and all. Our dumb government blindly agreed. Our politicians of all persuasions kowtow to those who seem to be superior and our men get killed. Been happening for years and I wonder when we will learn, grow up and stand on our own two feet.”

Mum must have been eavesdropping as the bang and clatter of pots and pans became extremely loud at that point. I looked at Dad with even more new-found respect. Some of what dad said was probably above Tom who had so far had a more sheltered life experience. I could see where Dad was coming from. In Canberra I too followed the apolitical line of the army. The leading politicians were an interesting breed who treated those around them with contempt. What they didn’t realise was that that contempt was returned multi-fold by most Canberrans who took great delight in decapitating tall poppies who took on airs and graces unearned and unwarranted. Politicians were constantly seeking an audience but few people I knew watched their efforts on television, read the political pages or had ever been to Parliament House despite it being just down the road.

“There will be a change soon,” Dad said and he wasn’t looking skyward nor even thinking of the weather. “This war that has been part of the daily television news for years will be the death knell for this government. We are spending too much money on it. We are losing too many soldiers’ lives because of it and we see most nights the destruction we are causing to the local population. I wonder if the Second World War had been televised whether public opinion would have made it shorter,” Dad mused and was probably casting his mind back to his past. I wondered what he would have been like had there been no war.

“So, what do you do in this military intelligence unit you are in? Or is it all hush hush and on a need to know basis?” Dad’s sudden change of tack caught me unawares and I was caught briefly between my loyalty to my father who demanded the truth and the army who demanded I lie.

“Well it is boring as hell. Because I am new in the role all I get to do at the moment is listen to some phone conversations that have been recorded and then check that the transcript is accurate. I just then pass the transcripts onwards and upwards or, if they are really mundane, I send them down to be filed.”

“So my taxes go towards people checking up on each other. The potholes in the main road don’t get done because thousands of trees need to be chopped down to create paper to write messages that no-one ever reads. Do you know who you are listening to and why you are listening?” He caught my dumb expression and continued, “I thought not. If I know anything about the army it will be just them trying to get extra information so that they can peddle more influence and gain more money by blackmailing someone. It was always like that and probably always will be. The American arms makers want to sell us planes, bombs and tanks and the American government create a need for us to use them. It’s a win-win all around. It would be cheaper if we just donated money straight to the US government and we dispensed with our army navy and air-force altogether. Think of the Australian lives we’d save. But the powers that be in the Defence Force won’t let that happen. They lose their own power base. The government won’t let that happen. They will say that we need to have an independent defence force which would be good except it currently isn’t independent. The US says jump and we don’t even ask how high. The politicians won’t let it happen because they want pictures taken in flak jackets and helmets in planes, ships and tanks so that they can be seen and feel good.”

Dad was on a roll and I had never heard him sound off as freely as this ever before. I think for the first time he had an audience apart from Mum who probably turned a deaf ear to his ‘seditious’ talk. Both Tom and I felt honoured to be treated as adult enough at last to be involved in the complicated thinking of our father. I didn’t altogether agree with him but Tom was taking it all in as gospel. He would learn later that no-one was ever truly and totally right. Dad must have realised that he had been ranting and had been dominating the conversation.

He said, “Glad I didn’t say that on the telephone. You never know who may be listening to, transcribing and then filing my words away. Now Mr Bond, show us your licence to kill.”