Days turned to weeks and weeks to months, sometimes racing, sometimes dragging.
Joe’s office soon became a popular spot on the camp. His open, friendly personality welcomed all who knocked on his door. For some it was a request for Reconciliation, but, for the majority it was to unburden fears of battle, to share a prayer or just to talk to a friend.
Each Sunday after breakfast Joe celebrated the Eucharist in the mess hall. He endeavoured to make these liturgies happy and hope-filled to a usually well filled hall. At the conclusion, anecdotes of a past life were shared.
Constantly he visited the make-shift hospital, administering the sacraments, sometimes the last rites. Occasionally he advanced with troops close to the firing line. He felt no fear, rather gratitude to be among the men he had learned to know and admire. Yet he was never able to answer the ‘why?’ completely. The importance of these times was in being a friend and supporter when needed. When requested he ministered to Viet Cong prisoners. Perhaps he would never find an answer to his ‘why?’ !
Letters from home were constant and so very welcome. His mother and father had now retired from running the farm – very ably taken over by his brothers – and were living in a small newly built cottage on the property.
Letters from Julian and Eddie were also constant and also very welcome. Julian, Uni. student once again, and Eddie, new parish priest in Bourke, both miles away in distance were always close in friendship and support. Naomi’s letters, although short, were full of love and support.
He had been in Vietnam almost nine months when he opened Naomi’s letter that had arrived that morning. The joy he always felt on opening her letters faded and he froze as as he read,
My dear Joe, this is not a letter I wish to write. There is something that I must tell you now – I have left it until almost the end. I am dying Joe. I have known for almost a year now that I have terminal cervical cancer. I was told not long before our last time together. But I did not want to spoil that special time for either of us. I am now hospitalized, with only weeks – perhaps days – left. I do not fear death. I know the God I believe in will welcome me. Do not be angry, my darling Joe. I will be close. I love you. Nae.
How long he stood, frozen, holding her letter, Joe had no idea. At first deep, burning anger consumed him. He threw pencils, paper, cushions, anything within reach at the wall. He cleared paper work, books, anything on his desk with a sweep of his hand. He raised both fists above his head, “And You’re supposed to be a God of love! What a joke! You…”
As quickly as it had come, his anger turned to grief he had never experienced before.
“No! no!” he sobbed as he slumped to the floor. His whole body shook as the intense grief completely overcame him. “Nae, Nae”, he whispered between sobs.
Much later he picked himself up from the floor as he began to think coherently. He must return to Australia immediately! To his great relief, he found Hugh alone in his office.
“Joe! Whatever is wrong!” Hugh exclaimed as Joe entered.
“Oh!” It only dawned on Joe then how dishevelled he must look.
“Sorry to butt in like this,” Joe began. “I need to return home immediately. A very dear friend… of the family,” he added, “is dying. I need to see her before…” He faltered.
Hugh, sensing most of the truth without being told, quietly answered, “Of course Joe. Go back and get together anything you need to take and I’ll arrange official leave.”
Within hours Joe was in the air on his way back to Australia. He was met at the airport by Julian.
“How did you know?” Joe asked, surprised.
“Some guy called Captain Brown phoned and suggested that I meet you. What is it, mate?”
Fighting back tears, Joe told him. Without a word, Julian’s arm was around his friend’s shoulder. They walked to the car in silence. As they did, Julian was tossing over in his mind the best way to help his friend.
“I’m taking you to my flat for the night,” he began as he negotiated several curving avenues of the parking station. “And I’ll fly with you to Melbourne in the morning.”
Joe marvelled at the way Julian, in taking over arrangements, had them booked on a plane the next morning and booked into a motel close to the hospital. Before they boarded, Julian had also contacted the hospital. He was rather taken aback by the blunt announcement from the Sister in charge of the ward, “Naomi is fading fast – probably only a day or two.”
This he did not relay to Joe.