Brother Doyle announced in the chapel one evening that confirmation was a sacrament instituted by Jesus Christ which conferred the gifts of the Holy Ghost (grace, strength, and courage) upon the recipients so that they could then be enrolled as soldiers in the one Holy Apostolic Church. He said that The Archbishop of Perth was an extremely busy man, but had kindly offered to lay his hands on and anoint with holy oil all those from the 5 and 6th grades, the Junior Certificate scholars and the working lads. ‘Such a great and sacred event,’ he continued, ‘has never been held in this chapel before and of course we shall prepare a fitting reception for His Eminence, the Archbishop of Perth. We shall begin rehearsals this Sunday and continue until we are feet and hands perfect. I don’t want any of you to disgrace me and I know that under my supervision, you won’t. So now say a short prayer for the success of this great and holy event.’ It was then that Skinny winked at Tommy Cooper who grinned back, though without turning his head, for most of the other brothers were sitting at the back having gathered to hear the good news.
The boys were not entirely unprepared to give the archbishop a fitting welcome. In Brother O’Doherty’s time a cadet unit had been formed. Its main purpose was to give the older boys military training so that they could oppose Godless communism when the confrontation arrived as not only the brothers but the Australian government seemed to believe was imminent. Skinny as an older boy naturally was told to join the cadet unit. In their khaki uniforms and berets they practiced marching, close order drilling, how to manage the heavy 303 Lee Enfield rifles, shoulder arms, present and port arms, and how to clean and to strip the Bren light machine gun as well as learning the theory on how to set booby traps and throw grenades. They learnt all this one afternoon a week when a regular army soldier came to instruct them.
Brother Doyle slotted the cadet unit into the spectacular he was intent on making out of the Archbishop’s visit and his lads becoming soldiers of Christ. He wanted to and would use them as an honour guard as they found out next Sunday afternoon when before engaging in the first of their rehearsals he had them nuggeting their boots, blancoing their webbing and garters and brassoing their brass bits. When they had finished this, he lined them up for inspection, but without their 303s which he felt were unnecessary as they would get in the way of his general inspection. Where officers had their wands, he had his strap which unconsciously in parody of such sticks, he tucked under his arm as he strode along the line. His troops quaked in their heavy army boots as he stopped in front of each cadet and if he found something not to his liking whack went the strap on the offending article. Every cadet received a whack or two or three and Doyle must have been exhausted by the time he had finished and was about to dismiss his troop when one of the brothers reminded him that the whole school had turned out for the rehearsal, so warning the cadets that next time he expected perfection, he ordered them to form into two columns and march to the front of the main building. There they waited in formation and then at his order they stepped out smartly between the civilian kids who lined both sides of the roadway. They reached the big entrance gates and halted at the command. The brothers’ Ford Zephyr car, the one that had picked Skinny up a few years ago now, waited there.
Brother Doyle consulted with his brothers for some minutes and then he commanded the cadet unit to side step and let the car drive through their ranks. It was then that he remembered that they should have carried their rifles to present arms. ‘Next time, will do and I want those rifles polished and gleaming,’ he snapped. With the maneuver accomplished, he ordered the cadets to reform and follow behind the vehicle. They stepped out and he ordered them to halt. He had decided that it might look better if the cadets marched in front of the Zephyr. Doyle tried this to his dissatisfaction and then had the cadets come behind the car again. Still not content, he had them march on both sides of the vehicle and finally in front of it again. This he decided would do for now and dismissed them until next Sunday. The lads rushed to the cadet room to fling off their uniforms and run to the playground to play.
All were happy for the school holidays still had a few days to go and there wasn’t much work to do. At least the kids thought so until that night after prayers, Basher announced he had decided that they should go in batches to spend a day working on the main building at Bindoon. Brother Keaney, the Principal there wanted it to be finished by the end of the holidays. He had called on him to help him to achieve his goal and by Christ he would do so. The first lot would go at six next morning. He read out a list and on it was Beefy.
Skinny remembered how much he hated Bindoon and wondered how he would take being forced to go back there even for one day. Skinny was also on the list but looked forward to the trip as Bindoon was about 60 miles in the country and thus they would be stopping along the way. Also Brother Keaney was the principal there and he wanted to see him. From what Dicky and Basher had said about him, he was the real life person that Spencer Tracey had played in the famous film, “Boys Town”. This was shown at regular intervals in Clontarf and the boys believed that in America there existed places like Clontarf which were run by kind and gentle men, just as there were churches that had parish priests like the one in the film “The Bells of St. Mary’s” as played by Bing Crosby. The next morning the group assembled where the truck was parked. Beefy was in revolt. He declared that he wouldn’t go to that “horrid place.”
‘Well, how you goin’ to get out of it,’ Skinny sneered. ‘Run off into t’e bushes or what?’
‘This,’ he replied and fell down upon the ground as if in a faint.
‘What’s wrong with him,’ Connolly asked, rushing up and prodding the kid with his boot.
‘Don’t know, sir, he had the shakes and then collapsed just like t’is. We have to get him to the infirmary.’
‘Well, get him there, but be quick about it. We’re late already.’
They carried Beefy to the infirmary and left him in charge of the hastily summoned nun, who stared at him as if she too was in shock.
‘Don’t worry, Sister, he usually comes around in awhile. It’s called Bindoonitis,’ Skinny told her before racing back to the truck and jumping to go and do his bit for the glory of Brother Keaney.
The rehearsals for confirmation continued as did instructions in what the boys were expected to do and feel. The great occasion after the receiving of the archbishop was to include a high mass for which Skinny was chosen to be one of the six altar boys that held long candle sticks. This was a great privilege for the Archbishop himself would celebrate this mass before doing the confirming. But this was not the only thing Skinny had to do. Basher selected him to carry the ecumenical flag out in front of the cadet squad. The school didn’t have one of those leather pouches in which the end of the flag pole was placed and when Tommy Cooper saw his chum strutting his stuff, he asked: ‘Why does yer stomach go right in when that flag pole presses against it?’
‘’Cause it’s pressing on a hollow that can never be filled wit’ t’e grub we eat in t’is place.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he grinned, ‘you just fasting till confirmation day.’
‘I am too, ‘cause fasting is good for t’e soul and I need some inspiration to pick me confirmation name. I can’t take anot’er Tommy as I’m t’at already an’ don’t want to double up like a silly nong.’
‘Well, why not Cassius? Basher quoted Shakespeare directly at ya yesterday. “Yon Cassius ‘as a mean and ‘ungry look; such men are dangerous, give ‘round me fat men that sleep all nights.”’
‘Well, t’ere’s only t’at Beefy who can be called fat and he, from what t’ey say, does a lot of bed hopping. Anyway I need a good Saint’s name.’
Tommy wasn’t very helpful and Skinny had to think it out himself. He wanted one that meant something, for example Francis which was his lost brother’s name and if he took it he might feel better. Skinny was still hurting from meeting with his big brother. The man Frank who worked in Castledare had come to Clontarf on some errand or other and when Skinny saw the brown skinned chap talking to Brother Connolly he instantly knew that it was his brother. He rushed up to him almost laughing in delight. He was giggling like a loon when the man stared at him and Skinny saw that the eyes were similar to his. ‘I’m your little brudda,’ he blurted out. ‘We never met before, but I know yer Frank. You look a bit like me an’ I suppose t’at when I grow up we’ll really look like bruddas.’
‘Yeah, I s’pose we might,’ the man said without a trace of warmth in his voice.
‘We will; we will,’ Skinny reiterated, refusing to be put off.
‘Maybe, maybe, anyway nice meetin’ up with you, next time when we come across each other we’ll have a bit of a yarn, but now, I gotta get movin’. See you,’ he said and hurried off.
‘Who was that bloke, not that Abo from Castledare,’ Tommy Cooper asked, coming up to him. ‘’E would’ve become a brother, but ‘adn’t what it takes,’ he added.
‘Oh he’s a nice enough bloke,’ Skinny replied wiping his eyes. He couldn’t understand. He knew that when he had met a brother he had never ever seen, he had been leaping with joy, but now after meeting him, he felt like crying. ‘Oh hell, let’s go and kick t’at ball around,’ he shouted angrily at Tommy Cooper. He raced him to the centre of the field. A chum was better than a brother any day, he thought even though he knew it wasn’t.
That was Skinny’s first and only meeting with his elder brother. He didn’t know what to make of him. Still, he was the only brother Skinny had and he thought that if he took Francis as his confirmation name, next time they met things might be different. There were quite a few saints with the name of Francis. Two of them were prominent: St Francis of Assisi and St. Francis Xavier, the missionary. Skinny felt attracted to the latter because he was a Jesuit a member of the same order that ran their retreats. In them they were often given missionary magazines such as The Far East to read in the hopes that they would find them edifying. In one of these magazines he had read the sentence: their skins may be black, but their souls can be made white. These words depressed him for a while, but he went to confession and made his soul white and this cheered him. He remembered this now and it decided him on St. Francis Xavier. This saint had brought so many people to Christ that when he died his right arm remained free of corruption.
Having confessed any and all his sins of commission and omission and having selected Francis as his confirmation name Skinny began enjoying the rehearsals. He even felt privileged to be serving in the high mass and in his state of elation he sailed through his lessons without a single mistake. Brother Doyle must have wondered what had happened to him. He might even have put it down to the coming sacrament, which was to be given on the third Saturday in August as the Archbishop had that day free. This redoubled Skinny’s happiness as it was the day before his sixteenth birthday.
At last the day dawned and the lads weren’t given breakfast as all of them had to take communion later on and thus had to fast. With the rest of the cadets, Skinny went and dressed in his khaki uniform making sure that everything was spick and span and shining bright. He put on his beret at the correct regulation angle, picked up his freshly polished rifle and went out into the quadrangle where Connolly deputizing for the over-busy Doyle checked the platoon over. Satisfied, he marched them to the front of the building and down to the side of the gates where they stood at ease waiting for the Archbishop’s car. The rest of the boys in their Sunday best stretched out on both sides of the carriage way.
Brother Doyle had been anxious to make an impression so they were early or perhaps the archbishop was late. The time dragged and discipline fell. The cadets whispered to each other how hungry they were and how they hoped that the late dinner feast would fill their bellies. Skinny almost drooled over imaginary heaped plates of cakes and chicken legs.
‘You’ll see, you’ll see,’ whispered Tommy Cooper,‘lotsandlotsoftucker.’
‘Cakes and chook with roasted spuds,’ Skinny mouthed, just as a black car swerved into their driveway and stopped. The cadet platoon sprang up and formed ranks. With Skinny at the head, they marched around the car and stopped in front of it. Skinny felt the butt of the flag pole sticking into his empty belly so that he almost puked. A big kid all of seventeen in charge of the platoon ordered them to present arms, then shoulder arms. The cadets formed a column on both sides of the car and with Skinny right in front of the vehicle marched up the driveway and about the roundabout to halt in front of the building. They presented arms and Skinny dipped the flag as the old purple-gowned figure pulled himself out of the car. A group of brothers came to him. Now their part over the cadets rushed off to put on their school uniforms.
Skinny had to speed up his rushing to reach the sacristy in time to put on his red gown and white surplice. The two main altar boys wore black gowns. The archbishop entered and dressed quickly aided by the chaplain. Now the boys lit their candles and escorted him out into the chapel, genuflected in front of the altar and knelt just in front of the communion railing as the Archbishop began celebrating mass. Naturally Clontarf had a choir and they sang the responses from the back of the chapel so the altar boys with the long candles could relax and feel their hunger. The mass dragged on more than the normal low one, but eventually they received the Lord on their tongues. He didn’t fill their bellies and then the confirmation ceremony began.
Skinny had thought that being pure in an absolute state of grace and officiating at the high mass celebrated by the Archbishop himself would result in a doubling of his elation; but instead the pain in kneeling on a polished wooden floor made him fidgety. He endured his pain as he watched the old man, all dolled up in his fancy robes and mitre, come to anoint him with the holy oil. At his touch he waited for a flash of lighting to mark the event or that once awaited vocation event to strike him. Neither lighting nor conviction and disappointed he let the rest of the ceremony roll over him watching with disinterested eyes as the Archbishop on rickety legs ascended the pulpit to give them an intimate talk rather than a sermon in which he stressed that now as they had truly entered the church they were never to turn apostate and forsake their holy mother. He hesitated letting that sink in and then added that even if they did She would always be there waiting to receive the prodigal son back and as always when these religious men entered into this theme, he brought in the example of Voltaire who after he had turned totally against not only the church, but God himself begged forgiveness when he lay dying.
And so it went on and Skinny’s stomach growled as he wondered if their dinner would be early as well it might seeing that the brothers and the Archbishop were fasting too. Of course he wouldn’t eat with them, but some of the brothers would share their holy feast and they too must be dreaming of the goodies. Skinny sighed and smiled when at last the Archbishop finished his little talk and the choir broke into a joyous hymn of thanksgiving. Decorously the altar boys slowly left the chancel, but once in the sacristy they and Skinny ripped off their gowns, flung them on hangers and charged off to see if dinner was ready. It wasn’t and the lads had to wait an hour before queuing up for chicken and roast spuds. This was not all. At the tables which had been reserved for the new Soldiers of Christ there were plates of cakes and bottles of soda pop which were not to be touched until they finished their main meal. The chicken was tasty, but the spuds were hard as rocks. Skinny tossed them under the table. Today was such an important day that he wouldn’t be punished for such a slight thing. With his plate empty, the bones had followed the potatoes, he got stuck into the cakes and soda pop. The cakes were a bit stale and the pop warm, but no matter. Wolfing them down, Skinny could even imagine and believe that he and his companions really had had an experience that would affect them all their lives.
‘It was great, wasn’t it,’ Skinny said to Tommy Cooper using his normal voice as it was a feast and a day of rejoicing.
‘Yeah, ‘appyiness to ya too, that bit of cake ‘ad a fly in it, ya know. Anyway only ‘ope that Basher treats us as good Catholics from now on. We all sons of one mother now, ya know.’
Whatever hopes the boys might have entertained that they had entered a different and more mature part of their lives was quickly dispelled by Basher and the other brothers who treated them just as roughly and sardonically as they always had. The big event of their confirmation quickly fell into the past as it was replaced by another event that meant much more to the brothers than to the kids. One evening after prayers a somber Doyle bobbed his balding grey head that was shaped like a soccer ball and Skinny saw that he was growing old as in a husky voice he informed them that the great Brother Keaney had passed away He said that they would say a rosary for the repose of his soul and tomorrow there would be a special requiem mass for him. With sad eyes he stared around at the boys to see what effect the death of this man had had on them. Their faces remained resolutely blank as he began the rosary. None of the boys cared about the death of the old bloke except those that had transferred from Bindoon to Clontarf and if Beefy was an example they were glad to see the last of him. Skinny had glanced his way when Doyle told them and caught the grin that flashed over his dial before he could clamp down his lips and blank his face.
The brothers took their charges to Bindoon so that all might pay their last respects to the Orphans’ Friend. Skinny stared down at the waxen face of the old man. He lay there in state all black in his gown; all white in his collar, his hands, his hair and his face. Skinny wondered if he should say a prayer. Tommy Cooper was in front of him and behind was Beefy. Skinny heard him hawking deep within his throat and looked behind just as he let go a big greenie that splattered across the face of the corpse. He whispered fiercely: ‘I know that you rot in hell you old coot!’ Skinny was appalled and pushed Tommy Cooper aside so that he could get away from what he considered a sacrilege.
They left the big main building completed with so much of their sweat and found a spot under a tree. Skinny sat down and shook. He really expected that God would intervene to strike Beefy down for desecrating the body of a bloke that some of the brothers especially Doyle and O’Doherty expected to be made into a saint and within their very lifetimes at that; but nothing happened. Beefy sat down with them and wasn’t even called to account. The incident passed away and the Clontarf boys re-embarked on their truck .Skinny never visited Bindoon again. Also this was Beefy’s last act, for a couple of weeks later he went off to a job in the town of Wagin none the worse for his sacrilege.
Skinny’s last full year in Clontarf was almost over. The end of November came and he sat for the Junior Examination. Some of his courses such as wood and metal working were judged by project; but the rest were test papers of which a certain number of questions had to be answered. When the examination was over, the papers were sealed in envelopes and sent to the examination board. He had no problem with any of the questions and sailed though. Skinny knew that he had topped the class because Brother Doyle after the examination went through the papers question by question, checking to see if each boy had got them right. After working each question out, he asked them if they had answered it correctly or not. The boys replied if they had or had not as the case might be. As Skinny had done everything correctly, he said yes to those questions he had answered and thus escaped the punishment meted out to his classmates. The strap came down hard on them for each wrong answer. It was then that Skinny decided that he hated the short pudgy Irishman with the vicious temper and snarly face. Before he had respected as well as feared him now he began to despise him. Indeed, Skinny wondered how he might get back at him.
He doted on this and was thinking about it one Saturday film night. It was an old gangster film, Public Enemy and as usual heavily edited to remove any trace of love such as a kiss or any naked part of a woman’s body. The brothers liked this film because it depicted a Catholic boy, played by Jimmy Cagney, who went from rags to riches by snarling his way up killing anyone that stood in his way, before he ended by being shot by the police. It was a simple enough story, but Skinny had glimpsed in the film a method to get into a locked room. He decided to try it on the door of Basher’s office.
One afternoon when everyone was down on the playground he snuck into the deserted classroom and went to the connecting door. Skinny smiled as he saw that the lock was an old one and that the key was in it. He slid a big sheet of paper under the door angling it so that a lot of it was under the lock. He pushed a pen against the end of the key and exerted pressure. It moved and fell onto the paper. He carefully pulled the sheet out and the key came with it. How easy it had been and he thanked the film makers as he unlocked the door and entered the forbidden space.
He sat in Basher’s chair smiling and opened the desk drawers staring at papers and money, and then got up to go to a big cabinet. He opened a shallow drawer and saw a large wrist watch. The last time he had seen it had been on Basher’s wrist. He picked it up, watched the second hand traverse the dial then put it back and closed the drawer. Now Skinny pushed the key back into the lock, but there was no way he could lock the door and thus leave no evidence of his intrusion. The only thing he could do was to leave the door unlocked hoping that Basher would think that he had forgotten to lock it. He did this and left. There were no repercussions Skinny had found that entering into Basher’s office had given him a bigger thrill than raiding the orchard. He waited for another opportunity to break into the forbidden space.
With the Junior Examination out of the way Basher Doyle at last congratulated them all for passing. He said that his class were a cut above most of the other boys that left school after the sixth grade and because of this, they would get better jobs and become clerks or Public Servants. He further stated that when they had settled in it was and would be their duty to not only remain Catholics, but take an active interest in church affairs and what better way to do this than to join laymen’s associations such as the Knights of the Southern Cross. Skinny might stifle a yawn as he went on and on; but he was frightened about leaving Clontarf. Why he didn’t even know what he wanted to be? A cowboy was out of the question and, well, he stopped thinking, he knew that something would be found for him. This last thought comforted him. He wasn’t used to making up his mind on anything. The brothers had done it all for him and he hoped that they would continue to do so until the very end and perhaps outside some else would take over.