Dad warned us we’d either love it or hate it here. Mum hates it. Or at least I think she does, because she’s done a mountain of grizzling since we arrived last Saturday. She hates the dust and the flies. And she hates that there are hardly any other women here. Dad said she’ll meet a few at the barbecue this weekend.
I love it. There are lots of kids my age. They’re friendly because they’re all fairly new to town. They don’t call Woomera a town. They call it ‘the village’.
Dave lives next door. He’s thirteen too. He started talking to me as soon as the removal truck pulled up at our new house. He wanted me to go and play but Mum said, ‘No’. I had to help unpack because Dad wasn’t around.
Dave got off on the wrong foot with Mum because she heard him whisper she was a grouch. After all the boxes were stacked in the house she let me go outside and play with Dave as long as I was sensible.
The first thing he said was, ‘Your legs are wonky’. Then he asked if I could run. I told him I could, but not very fast, so he suggested we go riding instead. I didn’t tell him Mum won’t let me ride bikes. I didn’t want him to think I was a sook. He loaned me his sister’s bike. I was wobbly because I hadn’t ridden for years. We didn’t go too far because I was very slow.
Mum doesn’t know I went riding. She’d cut crook if she knew.
I keep my secrets in this diary. I carried it with me on the bus. All of my other stuff is packed in the boxes. I’ve had few secrets from Mum for the past three months. She knows everything, because there was only the two of us in Townsville. Dad’s been here since February. He wasn’t living in a house. He lived in a tent.
I started writing a diary when I was stuck in a hospital bed for months. It helped fill the time as I recovered from polio. Lots of kids get polio. The virus paralyses some and kills others. Dad says I didn’t die because I inherited the Browns’ fighting bush spirit. Mum says it was because of her skilled nursing.
I don’t have polio now. And I’m not a cripple, but my legs are still not as good as they were. They’re getting stronger, though, and I’m happy with them.
Dad got home last night. That made Mum less grumpy. He’s been to Adelaide to collect some rocket parts. They came from England. So did our house.
‘The government owns every brick and stick in the village,’ Dad told us. This is a better house than the one in Townsville. It’s brand-new, so I don’t know why Mum’s complaining. Dad likes the way she’s set up the kitchen. He’s got tomorrow off to help her shift the heavy furniture into the other rooms.
Dave and I went riding again today. I told him Mum will have a go at me if she sees me on a bike so he hides it around the corner.
He’s allowed to do anything he wants. His parents don’t care. Dad’s okay with me mucking about. Mum’s overprotective. Dad tells her to ease off on me but she won’t. She always says it’s all right for Dad because he doesn’t have to look after me when my legs go.
That hasn’t happened for ages.
The barbecue was good fun last night. Lots of kids were there. Now I’ll know some of the others in my class when school starts tomorrow. I have to be there early to enrol. I’ll be wearing long pants for the first time. That’ll be good. I’m sick of people staring at my bent legs.
I don’t think any of the kids noticed how slowly I ran last night when we played brandy in the dark. I often hid in the shadows so I didn’t have to run much. Mum told me I wasn’t allowed to play so I waited until she was talking and snuck off. Dad saw me and winked. He wants me to toughen up. He loves going bush and camping out but Mum hasn’t let him take me since I got polio.
That was six years ago. I wish she’d stop worrying.
School’s all right. I’m the best drawer in the class. I knew I would be. I drew a picture of Superman flying. The teacher was amazed I could do it so well without copying. He doesn’t know how many drawings of Superman I’ve done in the past. When I was a kid I was obsessed with him. I’d love to fly like him. Can you imagine that? ZOOOOOOMING along up high, looking down on everyone. Maybe one day I will.
Woomera’s a good spot to learn about flying because they test rockets here. If they ever need someone small to put inside one and be fired off, I’ll volunteer. How good would that be? I’m not scared of tiny spaces and my wonky legs wouldn’t matter, because you can’t walk around inside a rocket.
Dave’s drawing was terrible. Because I finished mine quickly, I helped him. He was trying to draw an army tank. It looked more like a sardine can on wheels.
I had to rub most of it out and start again. Next art lesson we have to colour our drawings in. I’m not so good at colouring in, but I’m not bad. I’ve got my own Derwent pencils. Dave thinks I’m spoiled, but I reminded him I don’t have a bike and he does. Does that mean he’s spoiled too?
I got a good mark for an English essay describing my old house, but didn’t get too many maths answers right. That’s because I’ve missed too much school. I still did better than Dave.
I went out into the desert this arvo with Dave and his friend Robert. I didn’t tell Mum and Dad where we were going. Dave’s been in Woomera the longest. He arrived last year. He said it was terrible then because there weren’t any good kids to muck around with. He thinks it’s great now that more families have moved in. Robert’s been here since the start of the year.
He joked that I have ‘banana legs’. Dave told him not to pick on me or he’d stir him about his cowlick.
Robert wanted to know how long I’d had polio. I told him I don’t have it any more and one day soon I’ll be able to run and ride faster than either of them. I told Robert I could already thrash him in a swimming race. I did hours of swimming in the Townsville pool to strengthen my legs and help them straighten again.
The boys have lived all over Australia. That’s because Army families move all the time. My family would’ve moved more if I hadn’t got sick. Dad didn’t mind being based in Townsville during the war, but afterwards he said it was too much like the city. We had no choice but to stay there because of my polio. Dad’s a bushie. He wants me to be a bushie too.
We rode right out to a place in the desert the boys call The Grave. We couldn’t ride all the way because the sand was too soft. Dave’s seen a skeleton near there. We couldn’t find it. He said the wind must have covered it with sand again.
Robert dared one of us to dig up the skeleton in The Grave. It belonged to someone called John Henry Davies. He died sixty-nine years ago, in 1884. There wasn’t a town then, just desert. We wondered what he was doing way out here and whether he died of snake bite or thirst or was speared by Aborigines. When no-one took up his first dare Robert dared one of us to sleep out here alone one night. Dave joked, ‘No way. Not over my dead body.’
Woomera’s like a town in a cowboys-and-Indians movie. If it really was it would have a name like Dry Gulch or Dead Man’s City, there’d be big cactuses growing everywhere and we’d be riding horses instead of pushbikes. I don’t know what horses would eat out here. It’s dry enough in mid-winter, so I hate to think how dry it will get in the summer time.
The boys said the village has regular film nights. Robert said he saw High Noon in the Christmas holidays. I saw it in Townsville. It’s not my favourite western because I prefer more action: shoot-outs, chases and Indian attacks.
Dad took us for a walk after tea and showed us more of the sites around the village. We stopped at the Mess for a drink. I saw some of the kids from my class there with their parents. We played darts. Mum even told me to be careful playing that!
I had to stay home this afternoon to finish unpacking my boxes. All our possessions are here now except Rusty, my Jack Russell terrier. He arrives this week. I bet he hates being cooped up in a cage inside a train carriage. He’ll go bananas when he sees me and when I let him run loose in the backyard.
This house is so new it doesn’t have a garden. Mum had a great garden in Townsville but she says there’s no point trying to establish one here. It’s too hot and dry to grow anything. Even the local oval is dirt.
I found all my other treasures as I unpacked my old diaries: my Superman comics, drawing books and collection of completed cricket scorebooks.
I started drawing and got interested in cricket when I was stuck in hospital. I used to lie in bed and listen to the broadcasts on the wireless. What else was I going to do? I wasn’t allowed to move. Quite often I was tied to my bed. Some of the nurses were really rough.
‘We’re doing this for your own good, Anthony.’
Sure they were! Straightening my legs and tying them in that position when the muscles wanted to stay curled up and comfortable. It was bad enough having it done to me, but even worse to hear them doing it to others in the ward. Some of those were really little kids and they screamed.
I learned not to cry when they worked on me because I didn’t want the mean nurses to think they could make me cry.
Mum wanted to unpack my heaviest boxes but I wouldn’t let her. I told her I’m strong enough to do that.
In my room I’ve got a bed, a dressing table, a bookcase and a desk. I put my small drawings and cricket books in the bookcase and the big drawings under my bed. My diaries fitted perfectly into the little shelf on my headboard. There are seven of them, starting in February 1948. The first one has lots of short entries because I didn’t write much when I first started. Mum gave me that diary the Christmas after I got polio. I did some drawings in it too and I wrote letters to my friends and my grandma. She used to visit me and sit and read her letters. I never posted them.
I was only allowed to have visitors once a week for an hour on Sunday afternoons when I was no longer contagious. No-one was allowed to visit for the first few weeks. None of my friends ever visited. Their parents were scared they’d catch polio from me.
Alan McGilvray’s voice ‘visited’ me every day when there was an Australian test cricket match being played, because he did the wireless commentaries. I listened to every ball and learned a lot about the game. I used to play backyard cricket with Dad before I got sick, but Mum hasn’t let me since. For a while I couldn’t. I couldn’t even stand up, let alone bat or bowl. In Townsville I sometimes used to practise bowling when Mum wasn’t watching. You can’t practise batting by yourself.
Our social studies teacher told us some men are climbing to the top of Mount Everest, the highest mountain in the world. My legs will never be strong enough to climb mountains, but I don’t care. Who wants to climb a mountain? Once you get to the top you have to turn around and climb down. That seems dumb to me. If I was Superman I could fly to the top. That’d be more fun.
Dad is rostered to work on the base all this week doing general maintenance on the trucks. When he’s on that roster he goes to work after breakfast and comes home for evening dinner, just like a normal father. When he’s rostered to do transport duties he’s often away for days, sometimes weeks. He doesn’t mind, especially if they go bush. He loves driving. One day he’s going to buy us a car.
He can ride horses too. He grew up on an outback station. I’ve never been to Grandma and Grandpa’s property. It’s way out in western Queensland, near the Northern Territory border. During the war Dad was in the Army and couldn’t take me. After the war I got polio and couldn’t travel out back. In fact, because I was sick I hardly ever left Townsville until we shifted here.
Before Mum and I arrived in Woomera Dad told us he drove truckloads of supplies out into the desert. They’re building another part of the rocket range way out in the middle of nowhere. Dad said its location is ‘Hush hush. Top Secret.’ Most parts of the rocket range have a few work buildings but this new site is more like a little town. There’s even an airstrip, and on one trip Dad saw a helicopter. It’s the only one in Australia, that’s how important the place is. A couple of weeks before Mum and I arrived, the Prime Minister, Mr Menzies, visited here. Dad says something big is being planned. He’s not important enough to know what it is though.
Mum said there was no way she’d live further out in the desert. Woomera is remote enough for her. It’s really different from Townsville, but I love it because there’s lots of freedom. We kids can do anything.
I earned threepence today. Robert paid me to do a drawing of a rocket. I’ve never seen one, so I drew an imaginary one like I’ve seen in films. He liked the drawing, but said that’s not what real rockets look like. He’s going to show me a photograph of one.
He got a good mark for ‘his’ drawing but a bad one for the colouring in. It wasn’t very good. He should have asked me to do that too.
Rusty arrived this arvo. Mum had him locked in the house when I got home from school. She said he knew I was coming as soon as I walked down the side of the house. When I opened the back door he went crazy. He leapt into my arms then jumped down and raced around the room, leaping on and off the furniture. His craziness made Mum laugh.
He’s going to sleep in my room. Dad used an empty packing box to make him a kennel. Mum put an old cushion in it for him to sleep on. I bet he won’t sleep there though. He’ll creep up onto my bed when I turn the light off. He always does.
Mum bought Rusty for me so I had a friend when I first came home from hospital. He’s four now. He’s really clever. He’ll do anything I tell him to do. He relates better to males. He obeys Dad but is very naughty for Mum. She likes Rusty even though he’s disobedient. She says he’s done me a lot of good.
I called him Rusty because that was the name of Superman’s dog when he was a boy (before he discovered he was Superboy).
We went rabbiting today. Dave’s got a whole pile of traps under his tank stand. We dragged some out with a rake, because there were too many spiders under there to crawl under and get them. Dave said last summer a 10-foot snake was living under there. He got bitten, but the poison didn’t hurt him. Sometimes I think Dave makes up stories. Like the one about finding a skeleton in the desert.
We put out a dozen traps. I’ve never set a rabbit trap before. They’re very scary. They’re like a metal mouth. You force the jaws open, lock them with their teeth ready to snap, then cover them with sand at the entrance to a burrow. When the rabbit comes hopping out for breakfast, BANG! It gets him. You peg the trap into the ground so the rabbit can’t hop away with it. The ground here’s so hard they can’t pull the pegs out.
I thought the traps would kill them but Dave said they usually don’t. He often has to do that when he checks the traps the next morning. He goes out really early. I wouldn’t be allowed to go so I won’t ask. I know what Mum’s like: overprotective.
She’s been worse since we shifted here. I think that’s because she’s not happy. She’s met most of the women and says they’re all really friendly, but she complains there’s not enough to do. ‘It’s like living in a cage. In Townsville I could get off the base and go into town or to the beach, but here there’s nowhere to go apart from the village.’
I think there’s tons to do and lots of places to go to.
We caught five rabbits last night. Dave had them hanging upside-down under his back veranda when I went over after breakfast. He got up in the dark to bring them in. Two other traps had gone off, but didn’t catch anything. Dave said he caught a dingo once but it bit off its foot to escape the trap and ran away.
When I told Dad he said there aren’t any dingoes here. There’s a fence to the north that was built to keep them on the other side. He said the fence goes right across Australia. Dave knew about the fence but reckons dingoes jump it. The one that chewed his foot off won’t be leaping fences any more.
Dave’s dad helped skin the rabbits and gave one to me. Mum’s going to cook it tonight. I like stew but I’m not keen on rabbit stew. Dad loves it. He eats rabbit when he’s out bush. He says that if everyone in Australia ate as much ‘bush mutton’ as he does there wouldn’t be a rabbit plague.
The government’s trying to wipe out the rabbits with a disease called myxomatosis. Dave calls it myxie. He’s seen a few that have got it. They go blind and walk around in circles. He usually belts them with a big stick to put them out of their misery. Mum thought that was cruel, but Dad was on Dave’s side. He’s seen cattle die of thirst in the bush and says it’s shocking to see them go that way. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to be cruel to be kind, Beryl.’
He told us that animals last longer than humans in the desert. ‘When it’s stinking hot summer in this part of the world even an experienced bushie would be lucky to last a day without water.’
Dave’s going to dry some rabbit furs to make a sleeping mat for Rusty. I hope he knows how to do it properly or it’ll pong the bedroom out.
Dave had a great idea. We’ll use Rusty to hunt rabbits. He’s the perfect size. We’ll have to train him to go down the burrows. Dave says Rusty will probably kill one or two of them down there, but the rest will come running up and we’ll catch them in nets.
I asked him where we’d get the nets and he said he had some old Army mosquito netting that should be strong enough.
When I asked him how we’d get Rusty out of the burrow he said, ‘If he’s smart, he won’t get lost.’ That worries me a bit.
Two of the men who were climbing Mount Everest got to the top. The main climber was from New Zealand. There are thousands of mountains over there to practise climbing on. No-one from Woomera will ever climb a high mountain because it’s flat for miles around here. But if the scientists here do a good job we might put a rocket higher than any mountain top.
Robert’s father is a rocket scientist. He told him that one day they’ll fire a rocket up to the moon and there’ll be men on it. I mean in the rocket, not on the moon. Although, who knows? There might be moon men living up there.
It’s funny, isn’t it? Robert tells me something crazy like a rocket landing men on the moon and I believe him. Dave tells me he found a skeleton in the desert and I doubt him.
We took Rusty for a walk after school this arvo to show him the rabbit burrows and to train him to hunt bunnies. We tied his collar to a piece of rope and pushed him down. He didn’t want to go at first but then he started sniffing the ground and wagging his stumpy tail and followed the scent down the burrow a little way. When he reached the end of the rope he came back. He couldn’t go very far, but even so he scared one rabbit out. It came up from a nearby burrow, stamped its foot, THUMP THUMP, and ran off.
Maybe Dave’s idea will work. I hope so. If we can use Rusty to trap rabbits in the daylight then I can join in.
Robert was really excited today. His father heard that the Americans have set off a massive bomb in the Nevada Desert. Dave and I weren’t sure where that was. We thought it might be near Woomera because there are some US Army people stationed here. He laughed.
‘Nevada’s in America, you ninnies, and anyway if they dropped an atomic bomb near here you’d soon know about it. The blast would burn your eyeballs out and melt your skin and cook your gizzards.’
I said nothing could do that except maybe a massive bushfire, but Robert laughed.
‘Don’t you know anything? They’ve already dropped bombs that did that to people and now they’ve invented a bomb twice as powerful. If you were near it when it exploded you’d be gone in a flash. It’d vaporise you, WHOOSH.’
When I asked Mum and Dad if there were bombs that big they said there were. They’re called atomic bombs, although the bigger bombs that Robert told us about are hydrogen bombs. Atomic bombs were dropped on two Japanese cities during the war. Dad started to describe what they did to people, but Mum didn’t want to hear. She said it wasn’t an appropriate subject to talk about while we were eating.
Later when I asked Dad more about the atomic bombs he told me the Americans dropped them to force the Japanese to surrender. ‘If the Americans had had to invade Japan a lot more American soldiers would have been killed. By using atomic bombs no more American lives were lost.’
‘But what about Japanese lives?’
‘Tens of thousands died in the blasts, but even more would have if we’d invaded. The Japanese wouldn’t have surrendered, son. That was against their warrior code.’
Dave, Robert and I went rabbiting today. We put the nets over as many burrows as possible to block most escape routes. The boys found some big dongers to bash the rabbits with when they became tangled up in the nets. We were all very excited, especially Rusty. Dogs sense people’s excitement and fear.
When everything was ready I let Rusty sniff the entrance to the biggest burrow and told him, ‘Sic them rabbits, boy.’ Down he went.
The rope was longer than last time because we’d tied some extra lengths on it. Nothing happened for a while, then KAPOW! Three nets had rabbits in them all at the same time. The boys went BASH BASH BASH with their clubs and yelled like soldiers in battle. It was crazy for a few minutes, then there was silence.
No more rabbits—dead or alive. But no dog either. The rope had gone slack. I dragged it up. A knot had come undone.
The boys didn’t realise that Rusty was missing and were still talking loudly while they dumped the dead rabbits into a hessian bag. I didn’t know what to do. I was worried he’d never come up. He could get lost and die down there.
When I started calling ‘Rusty!’ the others realised what the problem was and they started calling down burrows too.
We called for an hour. It was dark by then and time to go home.
I don’t think they realised how terrible I felt. Rusty was my best friend and I was about to abandon him. He didn’t abandon me when I was sick.
Dave said he’d come back with me to search for him first thing in the morning. I knew Dad would help us too. I hoped that if Rusty came out during the night he’d find his way home. We weren’t far out of town and he’d been here before. Dogs have good noses for following a scent, especially if it takes them home. Some dogs have walked hundreds of miles to get back to their owners.
On the walk home the boys sang silly hunting songs that they made up, but I was quiet. How would I tell Mum and Dad?
That was easier than expected.
Before I even got to the back door I heard Rusty barking. He’d been home for ages. He must’ve come up a burrow a long way from us and decided to go straight home.
When I told Mum and Dad how he’d got lost Mum started carrying on. She wasn’t worried about Rusty. She was worried about me.
‘If I’d known you were roaming around the desert I’d have made you stay home today. People die out there, Anthony, even in winter.’
I tried to explain we were in sight of the houses, but she wouldn’t listen.
‘This place is no good. It’s too wild and it’s making you wild.’
I laughed, which really made her angry. Dad tried to calm her down. He told her that when he was my age he did far more dangerous things. He killed rabbits with a .22 rifle while riding bareback through the scrub. I believe him. My Dad’s a real bushie under his Army uniform.
Mum said she didn’t care what Dad did at my age. He didn’t have polio.
That made me cross. When will she accept that I don’t have polio any more?
When I woke up this morning there was a man asleep in a swag on our back porch. I woke Mum and Dad. Mum was really worried. She thought it must be a swaggie or a drunk, but Dad laughed and said it would be his mate Kenny.
‘Only old bushies have swags, Beryl. Drunks sleep where they fall in whatever they’re wearing.’
Dad went out and brought him in for breakfast. Dad’s known Kenny since the war. He works around here now too. He actually discovered Woomera. That’s not quite right because there was nothing to discover. When he first drove here there was only bush and desert. But he chose the site and surveyed the streets. He didn’t tell me that. Dad did.
‘Kenny’s not into blowing his own bags,’ Dad told me.
He was a funny man. He even made Mum laugh. He came in from a place called Emu last night. Mum couldn’t believe he found his way through the desert in the dark. He said he’d been living out bush so long he’d developed owl eyes. ‘I can prove it. Unbutton my shirt, lass, and you’ll see I’ve grown feathers too!’
When I told Dave about Kenny he knew all about him.
‘Everyone knows Kenny. He’s legendary. He lives like the Aborigines. He can drive right across the desert and survive, and right across Australia and not get lost. Kenny once told me some of his tricks to survive in the desert. That’s why you’re safe with me when we go exploring, Anthony.’
Once again I wasn’t sure if I believed Dave.
I asked Dad if Dave knew Kenny and he said, ‘Quite likely. Everyone knows Kenny.’
‘But he wouldn’t talk to kids, would he, only grown-ups?’
‘Kenny’d talk to our pet galah, if we had one. You’ll get to see that when you know him a bit better.’
Even after hearing this I still wasn’t sure Kenny would tell Dave all his tricks for staying alive in the desert. It’s hard to know when Dave’s telling the truth or stretching it.
I asked Dad where Kenny was now and he said he was probably talking to the Base Commander. I thought he must be in trouble. That’s the only time the Commander would talk to Dad. But Dad said Kenny’s never in trouble. ‘He’s got the Big Brass eating out of his hand.’
Kenny had tea with us tonight, so I asked him for some tricks if you’re camping out in the desert. He smiled and told me to sleep with my boots in my swag, especially during the winter months. When I asked why he said, ‘If you leave ‘em out in the cold months, the centipedes’ll move in to get warm, and centipedes and toes don’t make good neighbours.’
After tea I stayed at the table and listened to the men talk. Kenny asked if Dad remembered the cross-country desert trek they did last year in the brand-new Land Rovers. Dad laughed and said his teeth were still chattering from the bumpy track.
‘Well, your next trip will be more comfortable, Frank, because I’ve just dozered a road right through. Roads take all the pleasure out of driving. Next thing there’ll be tourists motoring out there and people will want flash dunnies built.’
When Dad asked him what happened to the Land Rovers he said he’d taken the wheels off them, filled them with sand and planted geraniums in all but one.
‘What did you do with that one?’ I asked.
‘Turned it into a yabby pond so I’ve got fresh meat next time I’m out there!’
I thought he was joking, but I wasn’t sure, so I asked another serious question. ‘Why did you take the Land Rovers out there?’
Dad cut in then and told me not to ask so many questions. There are some things a soldier can’t talk about. He said it was time for bed because I had school in the morning.
Security’s so much tighter here than it was in Townsville. Mum says it makes her suspicious about what’s going on. When we arrived she was given a lecture on not talking about Woomera to friends and relatives. That’s hardly likely. They all live in Queensland.
Dad says it’s the British Government that insists on the tighter security. Some of its employees in England sold military secrets to the Russians, then defected to live in Moscow. Now they trust no-one, not even ordinary people like Mum.
‘It’s not the Aussie way to be so hush hush, but the Poms insist. They think any one of us could be a double-agent spying for Joe Stalin and his cronies. They suspect a Red under every bed.’
I asked Dad what a Red is. He explained it’s anyone with communist sympathies. I looked even more confused, so Dad told Mum to explain.
Even she couldn’t easily tell me what a communist is. It’s someone who lives in a country where the government owns everything and everyone works for the government. Russia is a communist country. It’s to do with politics. I couldn’t see how that was much different from Woomera, where all the scientists and soldiers are paid by the Australian and British governments, and no-one owns anything except a few personal belongings.
Mum said it will make sense when I’m older.
At school today the boys were talking about something I could understand: the first test match against England. It starts this week. It’ll be on the wireless in the middle of the night. I’ve listened to the cricket from England before, but didn’t know whether I’d be able to pick up the commentary here in Woomera. Wireless reception is not always good.
It always seems weird listening to the cricket at night. When I was really little I used to believe that they played in the dark. Dad had to explain that even though it’s night-time in Australia, it’s daylight in England.
Dave’s not interested in listening to cricket, but he likes playing it. Robert told me they’re in the same team. Dave’s not very good at batting or bowling, but he’s a really good fieldsman. There are only two junior teams in Woomera because the village is not very big. They asked if I play. After I told them Dad and I used to play in the backyard before I got polio they asked me to play for their team next season.
‘You could field in the slips so you wouldn’t have to run. And you could bat with a runner.’
I told them I want to play but Mum won’t let me. They said my legs were getting a bit better every day since I moved here and that Mum shouldn’t worry so much.
‘You don’t even get left behind much any more. What’s she worried about?’
I didn’t tell them that for years I’ve secretly practised bowling. I can spin the ball quite a lot. I don’t think my batting’s very good though. When I throw a ball in the air and try to hit it, I usually miss.
I asked Dad where Kenny was tonight and he said, ‘Back on duty. He doesn’t hang around civilisation for long if he can help it.’ When I asked why he doesn’t have a single-man’s quarters Dad explained he’s hardly ever here. He works out bush.
‘He doesn’t have to live by all the red tape the rest of us do, Anthony. The Big Brass turn a blind eye to what he’s up to and what he’s wearing. When he’s out bush, which he is most of the time, he’s allowed to travel alone and he doesn’t have to signal his position every two minutes. He’s sort of a law unto himself. Bush law.’
I told him Dave said Kenny can live off the land like the Aborigines. He said that’s true, which proves Dave wasn’t lying about that. I asked Dad about the trip he did with Kenny. He said he couldn’t tell me much because it was Top Secret.
‘Not that I know a lot anyway. Eight of us were ordered to drive showroom-condition Land Rovers out into the donga. I’ve got no idea where we ended up.’
‘Did Kenny lead you?’
‘No, son. We followed his old tyre tracks. Every now and then we’d find a stake in the ground with a bit of a Bully-Beef tin polished up and nailed on top. You couldn’t miss them. They’d glint in the sunlight. That confirmed we were on the right track.’
Dad couldn’t tell me much more than that. As soon as they got the Land Rovers to Kenny a plane landed on a big clay pan and flew them out. Kenny was left in the desert with eight brand-new vehicles.
‘What’s going on out there is a mystery, a Top Secret mystery,’ Dad told me. ‘Only Kenny and the Big Brass know what’s up. Small fry like me know nothing and I’m happy with that.’
When Mum checked my maths homework I asked her what she thought was going on out in the desert. She said that whatever it was, it probably wasn’t nice.
‘The Army’s plans worry me at the moment, Anthony. Whatever they’re up to I’m sure it will be big, loud and capable of killing masses of people.’
I told her there was nothing wrong with that. That’s why the Army was invented.
I didn’t hear any of the cricket last night. Mum wouldn’t let me sit up late because of school. She said she might let me stay up late tomorrow night and listen. This morning’s news reported that Australia made 3 for 157. Lindsay Hassett, the captain, is 67 not out. Dad reckons if Don Bradman was still playing the score would be double that. He would have taken me to see Bradman bat in Brisbane when I was a kid if I hadn’t got polio. Bradman made 185 that day. Dad’s always been disappointed I wasn’t there with him to see that innings. He told me all about it though.
I remember lying in hospital listening to Dad and imagining Bradman score run after run. I was really sick at the time and Dad’s story made me feel better. It was a long time ago, but I can still remember a lot of what he described.
Listening to the cricket on the wireless while I was in hospital helped me to feel less bored. I not only listened to the test matches, but kept a scorebook while I did so. Back then I did it to help pass the time, but now I do it because I enjoy keeping the score. It’s a habit or hobby, I guess. The funny thing is I’ve never been to a test cricket match. I’ve only seen pictures in books and newspapers.
I sat up really late last night listening to the cricket. It was about 1 o’clock when the players went to tea. Dad made me go to bed then. He stayed up to listen to the last session but fell asleep in the lounge chair. Mum said we’re both mad.
England were 6 for 92 at the start of play. Ray Lindwall got most of their batsmen out yesterday. He’s a really fast bowler. I’d be scared to face him, unless I was Superman of course. Wouldn’t that be great? I wouldn’t need batting gloves or pads because the cricket ball couldn’t hurt me. Not that I’d ever get hit. I’d never miss the ball. I’d smash it for six every shot. KAPOW!
England was all out by the time I went to bed and Arthur Morris was getting most of the runs for Australia.
It’s funny at school at the moment. In Townsville everyone barracked for Australia but here a lot of the kids come from England. You can guess who they barrack for. There was almost a fight the other day about which team is better.
This afternoon the boys and I mucked around at the oval throwing a tennis ball. Before I got polio I could almost throw a ball over our house. My arm muscles didn’t shrink like my leg muscles, but because I was in bed for a long time and then had to hold onto crutches to learn to walk again, I couldn’t throw anything. My arms are even stronger now because I had to use them all the time to move myself around. That’s why I can still throw a long way.
Dave and I set some traps before tea. He’ll get up early and check them. I don’t want to use Rusty any more in case he really does get lost underground. Dave’s happy about that.
Before I go to sleep I have to draw another rocket. It’s not for school work. Jonathon, one of the English boys in my class, saw the one I drew for Robert and paid me sixpence to draw one for him this weekend. I’ll be rich soon if more people want to buy drawings.
The test cricket ended in a draw but we’ll win the series. Australia has beaten England every series since 1933. The next test match starts at Lord’s in a couple of weeks. It’s the test both sides really want to win because Lord’s is the home of cricket. The English boys say they’ll beat us because the Queen will be there to cheer on their side.
Robert pointed out that she’s Australia’s queen too so she’ll have to barrack for both sides. They didn’t know that. They haven’t been here very long and thought we had our own queen. They’re in Australia because their fathers are scientists working on rocket and bomb experiments. They all seem to talk like the Queen. Dad describes that way of speaking as ‘having a plum in your mouth’. When I told Dave that he put a gobstopper in his mouth and spoke in his impression of a Pommy voice. It was very funny, especially when he started dribbling.
Jonathon promised to bring me photos of real rockets so I can copy them.
Jonathon brought two photos to school yesterday. They’re of a Seaslug rocket. What a strange name! Garden slugs are slow but I bet this ‘slug’ isn’t.
It doesn’t look like what I imagined. I thought all rockets had a pointy end so they could travel fast. This one has one tiny pointy bit surrounded by four flat-headed parts. Jonathon said they’re called boosters. Boosters are what power the rocket. The Seaslug is designed to be fired from British Navy ships, which is why the boosters are so far forward.
I thought it was funny that the Navy would test a rocket in the desert. How can that be a true test? The ocean’s not flat and still, like the desert. It’s all wavy.
He told me not to show the photos to anyone. His dad doesn’t know he took them off his desk. I’m surprised Jonathon’s father was allowed to take photos. We had our camera confiscated when we arrived in Woomera. We can collect it at the perimeter gate when we leave the village. I don’t know why we’re not allowed to take photos. There’s nothing here except normal houses and Army stuff.
Jonathon explained his father needs the photos to study the take-off and trajectory of the rockets he’s working on. He told us Woomera is a special place because rocket research only happens in a few places around the world. Scientists like his father are in a race to make the biggest and fastest rockets so Britain’s military can use them to attack our enemies in the next war.
‘Every civilised country employs spies to steal military secrets. Rockets are a very new and powerful weapon, so spies offer large amounts of cash to anyone who will sell them their country’s latest rockets plans or test photos.
‘The Australian and British governments have spies undercover in Russia, and the Ruskis have spies here. Father says you can’t trust anyone, not even your workmates. Scientists don’t earn a great deal of money, so the offer of thousands of dollars to sell information does tempt some people.’
After I heard that I realised why security’s tighter here and why the security guards must be on the lookout for spies. Jonathon says they aren’t only on duty when they’re in uniform and checking people’s passes: they’re also on duty when they’re in their civvies and socialising around the village. ‘They are expected to remain alert for anyone or anything suspicious. Even women and children are under suspicion.’
What a terrible job: having to suspect everyone all the time. How could you have any real friends?
I worked on some drawings this morning and played with the boys this arvo. Dave’s dad is off the base at the moment so Dave borrowed his slug gun. That’s a secret too. I guess this is the weekend for secrets.
Dave sneaked the gun out of town last night. He wrapped it in a jumper and buried it out near the big rabbit warren. I wonder if a spy or security guard saw him.
I thought we might not be able to find it, but we did because Dave used one of Kenny’s tricks and put a stake in the ground next to it. Perhaps Kenny did tell him some survival tricks. Instead of nailing a piece of tin can to it, he just put the whole can upside down over the stake.
We used the stake and the can for target practice. I’d never fired a gun before. It was great fun. I was quite good. Dave was the best. His dad taught him to shoot when he was ‘knee high to a grasshopper’.
Robert wasn’t very good. He didn’t hit the can once. I hit it five out of ten. Dave got eight hits. He claimed his other two shots hit it too but we didn’t hear it because the slugs went exactly through some of the holes made by his other slugs!
I wonder if there’s any connection between the slugs we fired and the name of the Seaslug rocket?
At the end of our shooting Dave wrapped and buried the gun again. Then we set some traps and walked home. He’ll collect the gun at the crack of dawn tomorrow when he checks the traps. Robert thought it would be funny if a rabbit hopped on the gun and shot itself.
Jonathon loved the drawing. I had to hide the photos and the drawing in my bag and give them to him after school. He’ll sneak them inside his house in his bag. He told me he’s going to sticky-tape the picture on his window and say he drew it. He’s not allowed to tape things onto his walls. He said his mother’s very strict. I told him mine is too. His sounds worse though. She won’t let him make any mess, even if he promises to clean it up immediately. My mum’s not that bad. She’s not bossy about mess. She likes me to do creative things in my bedroom, because when I was sick in bed I couldn’t play outside. That’s why I did so much drawing and got so good at it.
Jonathon’s going to ask his mother if he can come over to my house and do his homework. I wonder what Mum will think of him. He looks kind of weird. His trousers are always ironed with a pointy crease up the front and his hair is never messy. He always looks neat and tidy, as if every day was class photo day.
Jonathon was allowed to visit after school. His mother drove him over. They’ve got a car. They must be rich. My mother can’t drive. I guess it’s hard for her to learn when we don’t own a car. Dad could drive before the war—that’s why he enlisted as a transport driver. I don’t know where he learned. His family’s never owned a car either. Dad’s just a natural at things like that.
Jonathon was very polite to Mum. As soon as he arrived he introduced himself and told her exactly what time he’d be leaving. He said his mother didn’t want him to impose on us for too long. Mum asked him his impressions of Woomera. He considered before answering, ‘Desolate.’ Mum laughed and said she agreed, then asked what he thought of Australians.
‘Their informality shocked me at first. I thought they were slovenly and ill-mannered, but Mother explained I must not compare discipline on the Woomera Rocket Range with British military standards or even with boarding school.’
Mum laughed again. ‘If you think this is casual you should live in Townsville.’ Jonathon had never of heard of Townsville, but he did know of Queensland.
We sat in my room. The main reason his mother let him visit was because he said he needed my help with his art homework. He still hasn’t stuck my drawing up. He knew his parents wouldn’t believe he drew it unless he can show them some other good drawings too.
I taught him some drawing tricks, like how to smudge and scribble to make shadows. We talked about rockets and he explained about trajectory. Rocket scientists need to know about that so they can plan for their rockets to go up into the air and come down exactly on a target. He told me his father is working day and night at the moment planning the next Seaslug launch and analysing the data collected during the last launch.
He saw my collection of Superman drawings and thought they were ‘marvellous’. He talks in such an English way. It sounds funny. I showed him my very first Superman drawings. Mum kept them. She’s proud of them, but I’m not. I think they’re really bad. Jonathon thought they were ‘rather childish’ too, but he loved my latest ones.
I loaned him one of my Superman comics so he can practise drawing. He said he’ll have to hide the comic. His parents don’t approve of him reading ‘rubbish’. I’m glad they’re not my parents.
His school sounded as strict as his parents. He was educated at a ‘very fine public school’, which he explained is what we in Australia call a private school. He’s been a boarder since he was six. His father and grandfather went to school there too.
‘I missed Mother and Father initially, but I grew accustomed to their absence. I was happy for them to leave me behind in England last December, but father thought a stint in the colonies would help broaden my education. Mother was less rational: she believed she’d pine for me if I was too far away.’
He explained his school taught art in a very precise way. They never did anything creative. Instead they designed perspective drawings or copied paintings by the old masters.
He said his mother’s rather disappointed with the education he’s receiving here and has booked him into a boarding school in Adelaide next year.
I wouldn’t like to be sent away to school. I missed Dad when he left Townsville ahead of us to transfer here. I’d miss Mum even more if we were separated because I’ve hardly been out of her sight since the day I was born.
I’m glad I’m not Jonathon. He speaks and acts like an adult and doesn’t know how to be a kid and have fun.
Mum loved Jonathon. She said he was a gentleman and wished my manners were half as good. Dad said there’s nothing wrong with my manners.
‘I didn’t say Anthony had bad manners. I was just suggesting there’s room for improvement. Anthony’s much better mannered than the lad next door.’
She’s never really liked Dave. He and Jonathon are so different. Dave loves being outdoors. Jonathon’s a bookworm. He’s all right to hang around with a little bit, but Dave’s my best friend.
Mum’s really worried. The British Government’s going to test atomic bombs on the Woomera Rocket Range. The Prime Minister said so. It’s in the paper. There’ll be a series of tests. Mum said that if she’d known they were going to test atomic bombs here, she’d never have come.
‘You should have warned us, Frank.’
Dad got cross. ‘Beryl, I’m not in charge of this place. I don’t make decisions. They don’t tell me anything unless it’s in the form of an order, and then I do what I’m commanded to do. Do you really think they’d have told me they were planning atomic bomb tests? And besides, they’ll test them miles from here. We’re perfectly safe.’
‘How would you know? You know nothing, Frank. If you read newspapers or listened to the wireless maybe you’d be better informed. But no, you let the Army tell you what to believe.’
I got a shock to hear Mum being so rude. Something must be bugging her.
Dad stormed off to work and I left for school at the same time even though it was early. I didn’t say goodbye to Mum. She was putting the washing through the wringer and looked angry.
What’s she worried about? It’s only a bomb.
Robert said an atomic bomb blast is really spectacular. The bomb cloud goes up into the sky in a big mushroom shape. I hope they explode it close to here. I can’t wait to see it. I wonder if they’ll give us a day off school to watch. The British have tested two other atomic bombs, but they were on an island somewhere off the Western Australian coast. These tests will be on the first on the mainland.
How lucky are we to have them right here? I’d never heard of Woomera before we shifted but everyone in Australia will have heard of it after today’s announcement. We’re famous. If there weren’t spies here before, there soon will be.
Robert also told me Australian scientists are testing a little jet plane that doesn’t need a pilot. It’s remote controlled. He didn’t know if it was designed to carry bombs or spy cameras. How could you take a still photo from a moving jet plane? It’d be all blurry. Superman has super vision, that’s why he can fly high and still see everything.
I read the newspaper to get the cricket scores. The Lord’s test started last night. Australia won the toss and Lindsay Hassett got another hundred. That’s two in two games. No wonder he’s captain.
Mum made me do homework this morning before I was allowed to play. I have problems with maths. When Jonathon explained trajectory he said it’s simple mathematics. It didn’t sound simple to me. That’s why I’ll be a better rocket pilot than scientist. I’ll be like Dad when he drives and just follow orders. Someone else can navigate.
When Mum wasn’t watching I did some work on another rocket drawing. Not because someone is paying me. I just drew it for fun. I’ve still got one of Jonathon’s photos of the Seaslug. The rocket’s not flying, of course. You can’t photograph a rocket when it’s flying. It’s too fast. This one’s on a launcher. There are some men standing near it so you can see it’s not very big.
I got into big trouble with Mum for drawing instead of doing my maths. What happened was I started daydreaming while I was drawing and didn’t hear her come into the kitchen. I won’t do that again.
After that she stayed in the kitchen to keep an eye on me until the homework was finished and correct. She found three errors and made me do the sums again until I got them right.
I was daydreaming about Superman, of course. He’s like the rockets and planes the scientists are testing, but he’s better. He can fly into space and spy on things in other places, plus he has super powers that allow him to see through walls and roofs using his X-ray vision.
And he can read minds. I don’t think scientists will ever be able to invent something that does that. Superman can also use his vision like a laser gun. If he concentrates he can burn holes in metal just by staring really hard at it. That’s handy when he has to open a safe or burn handcuffs off someone the baddies have kidnapped. I bet the Army would like to invent a machine that does that so they could melt the enemy’s guns.
I bet they’d like a spy as unbeatable as Superman.
I wonder if scientists ever daydream. I wonder where they get their ideas for inventions. At school we get told off for daydreaming, but sometimes I get my best ideas when I do. I get good ideas when I night-dream too. In the morning, though, I know I had a brilliant idea but I can never remember what it was. Sometimes, if I wake up as soon as a dream ends, I write it into my diary. Then I remember what it was about. Night dreams are usually weird or scary. Daydreams are more real. Well, mine are anyway.
Dad and I sat up late again last night listening to the cricket. Both teams made about the same number of runs on the first innings. Their captain made a hundred just like our captain. At stumps we’re in front. They got Hassett out, but Morris and Miller are smashing them around.
I like listening to the cricket with Dad. He doesn’t talk much. I sort of half sleep when I listen and try to imagine the batsmen, bowlers, fielders and the cricket ground. I’ve seen pictures of Lord’s so it’s easy to imagine it. Jonathon’s been there. His dad’s a member. He wasn’t allowed into the members’ bar but his father told him they’ve got the Ashes in there. That’s the trophy Australia and England play for. Even though we’ve won it for the past twenty years, we’re not allowed to bring it back to Australia. Robert says that’s not fair. He says England’s hogging the trophy because they’re bad losers.
Jonathon said it has nothing to do with that. It’s simply a tradition and traditions must be respected. Boy! Sometimes he really does sound like a member of the royal family.
Dave, Robert and I mucked around all afternoon. Dave wanted to build a billycart. He found some old wheels. Guess where? Under his tank stand. Dad reckons Dave’s dad’s a junk collector. He can’t believe he’s collected so much rubbish after living in their house for such a short time. Dave wanted to ask Mum if we could cut up our packing boxes for the billycart, but I wouldn’t let him.
‘She’ll say no because she’ll worry I’ll prang.’
I didn’t tell him she’d mentioned re-using the boxes recently when she asked Dad how long we have to live here. I don’t want to shift. My friends are here.
Dave said it didn’t matter about the timber, because he knows where there are off-cuts we can use. We crawled under his house and ours and dragged out several pieces that we nailed together to make the frame and seat. When we were finished it was crooked, but quite strong.
We couldn’t finish the whole cart because we haven’t got a front axle and we’ve only got three good wheels. The fourth one has a big crack in the metal. If I was Superman I’d weld it using my super vision. Why can’t we all have super powers? Then we could do everything.
Dave wanted to make the billycart with one wheel at the front and two at the back but Robert said that wouldn’t work. As soon as you turned a corner, you’d tip over. He told Dave to wait until we got a fourth wheel.
When we finished we went out to where Dave had hidden the slug gun. We loaded it and took pot shots at some tin can targets, TING TING. Dave soon got bored with that though, and suggested we try and shoot some moving targets—birds.
To find birds we had to go a bit closer to town where there are a few trees. We saw some crows and watched where they landed. Some perched on the power lines. Dave wanted to shoot them there, but Robert and I told him not to. It was too close to houses.
When we saw a flock of galahs land around the water tanks Dave said he was going to get one. It seemed to be safe because we were firing away from the village and anyway, galahs are a nuisance. They eat the branches off the young trees around the streets.
We pretended we were soldiers and wriggled along the ground, hiding behind salt bushes until we were quite close. The galahs were so noisy that no-one would hear the shot.
Dave fired and hit one. It tried to fly but crashed to the ground. We all cheered as we ran towards it. Dave’s always telling us he’s a ‘crack shot’. I guess this proves it. The bird had been perched on the tank but it wasn’t sitting perfectly still.
When we got to the bird it squawked at us and raised its crest and one good wing. Its other wing was all busted and bloody. Dave clubbed it—BOOF—with the gun butt until it stopped moving. I couldn’t have done that, but he said he was used to killing rabbits and it didn’t worry him. He picked up the battered bird by its good wing and said he’d shot a big one. When he held it upside down you could see its little wing feathers. They were really pretty.
Why do birds need feathers to fly? Rockets don’t.
Something funny happened, but it’s Top Secret so I’m not supposed to know about it. One of those pilotless jets went AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave) last week. Robert told us it took off okay but sometime during the flight the scientists lost it on the radar. It was flying around uncontrolled for about half an hour before they tracked it down again and were able to bring it in for a safe landing.
He says the planes, called Jindiviks, drive his dad nuts. They keep crashing on take-off or on landing. This is the first one that’s escaped though. If they hadn’t found it and controlled its landing, it could have crashed onto the village and killed someone. They’ll have to fix that problem before they put bombs in one.
A pinch and a punch for the first day of the month. And no returns. I got Dave before he got me. Dave got Jonathon and nearly made him cry. I told him I know how much it hurts because I’ve been ‘got’ by Dave before.
I showed Jonathon my latest rocket drawing. He says it’s ‘rather brilliant’. He thinks it’s as good as the photograph. He looked at all the details and said I’d drawn it perfectly. He wanted to buy it, but I didn’t want to sell it. I agreed to draw another one for him. He asked if I could draw the rocket after take-off when it’s zooming through space. I agreed.
It’s funny: when Jonathon says something with his accent, it sounds like an order rather than a request. He doesn’t mean to sound bossy, it’s just his way of speaking.
I looked through my Superman comics tonight and got lots of good ideas for Jonathon’s rocket drawing. I’m going to draw it with the tall buildings of a city below, as if it’s about to attack. If that happened in a Superman story he’d stop the rocket somehow. He could either melt it with his X-ray vision or fly up and grab it then shield the city with his body when it explodes—BOOM. Or he’d punch it so hard it would turn back into space or fly straight at the baddies’ hide-out and blow them up, HA HA.
Hey, maybe one day I’ll be a comic book writer and illustrator. That’d be fun.
Australia nearly won the test match. England still needed to score 60 runs when the match ended. They only had their tail-end batsmen left. That’s two draws in two test matches. Three to go. We’ll beat them in the end. We always do.
It’s American Independence Day. The Americans had a parade with a band followed by a big party. There are not many of them living here, but they made a lot of noise. It’ll be noisier tonight. They’re having fireworks. Everyone’s allowed to join in. Mum said I can go with Dave. She’s staying home. Dad’s away for a week doing a transport run. He never tells us where. That bugs her sometimes.
I just got home. Mum set an 8.30 pm curfew. She’s strict like that. Dave came home too. He didn’t have to. His parents never tell him what time to be home. We collected a few penny bangers that didn’t explode. Dave’s going to hide them in his bedroom until we decide when to let them off. He thinks it would be fun to hide in the dark then throw them at an enemy. BANG BANG. We’re not sure who our enemy is, but we’ll find one.
We sort of made an enemy this afternoon. We were out hunting with the slug gun and tried to shoot another galah near the water tanks. Dave had three shots—ZING ZING ZING—but missed. Luckily we were lying on the ground to shoot and were hidden because two men suddenly came out from behind the tanks looking really angry. We wouldn’t have fired if we’d known they were there.
I wanted to apologise but Dave told me to ‘freeze’. Good thing I did. The men were furious. They walked quite close to us swearing and saying if they got their hands on the person who’d been shooting they’d skin them alive. We had to lie still for ages until they’d gone back to work behind the tanks. As soon as they were out of sight Dave and I cleared off. Even I ran quite fast.
The men must have been doing maintenance on the water pumps or pipeline. The village water comes all the way from the Murray River. The government had to build the pipeline before they could build Woomera because it hardly ever rains here. Every day is warm and sunny, even in winter time. Mum hates it because nothing will grow. She hasn’t even attempted to plant a garden except for one tiny patch of flowers. The Army’s planted trees around the streets but they’re still small even though they water them regularly from a truck.
Mum loved gardening in Townsville. During the wet season we had really heavy rain, especially if the tail-end of a cyclone was nearby. Plants grew easily and everything was green. It never rains here, so nothing grows.
I was wrong. It does rain. It poured last night. Mum was so excited when it started that she stood on the front porch and held her hands out in it.
This morning, though, she was annoyed by the rain. Her flowerbed’s been wrecked. The rain was so heavy it washed away nearly all the soil and her flowers with it.
The rain mucked up my day too. It was too muddy to go out of town. Dave came over for a while but he got bored. He hates sitting around doing nothing. After he left I sat and did some drawing.
I finished two rocket drawings. One shows the city below (that’s the one I’m doing for Jonathon) and another shows the rocket just about to crash into a whole fleet of enemy warships. Superman comics show lots of scenes from above because we often see the world through his eyes.
When I was a little kid and stuck in bed with polio I used to love my comic books. Other story books were okay but comics were better. I used to look closely at each of the picture boxes and imagine the story without reading all the words. Using those pictures I could travel everywhere that Superman went. I really wanted to do everything that he did: leap tall buildings, run faster than a locomotive, fly faster than a speeding bullet.
For months I couldn’t go anywhere, except in my imagination. That’s why comic books and the wireless were so important to me. The furthest I moved was if one of the nurses put me in a wheelchair and pushed me down the corridor to the exercise room. I never enjoyed that though, because doing exercise hurt. They used to make me stretch my arms and legs as much as I could, then they’d stretch them even further. I used to cry when I was back in my bed and the nurses couldn’t see me.
I was really happy when Mum took me home from the hospital and helped me do different exercises. She was more gentle than the nurses and gave me hot baths and massages to help relax my tight muscles. She gave up her nursing job to help me get better. She tried different methods to cure me from what the hospital used. She believed in Sister Kenny’s approach to help people recover from polio. Sister Kenny was a legend in Townsville.
It’s raining in England. Isn’t that funny? Some of the cricket was washed out. I wonder if it’s the same rain that was here last weekend. If it is it must have blown from Australia right across the Pacific, America and the Atlantic Ocean. That could happen. The wind used to blow the old sailing ships to England if they sailed in that direction.
Superman once blew away a blizzard to save some people who were lost in Alaska. WHOOOOOOOOSSSHHHH. If he hadn’t blown it away he could have sucked it inside him. He did that once with fog so a ship didn’t crash onto some rocks. He saved the ship because his girlfriend Lois was having a holiday on it. She sent him a mental message asking for his help. Wouldn’t it be fun if you could receive messages from people just by tuning your brain in to theirs?
I’d love to be able to read people’s minds, especially the maths teacher. I’d know all the answers and get 100% in every test.
I got 59% in this week’s test. Others did worse so I’m not the dumbest in the class. I haven’t told Mum my bad marks yet. I hope she hasn’t paid a spy to observe me or she’ll know the bad news before I’m ready to tell her.
Dad was supposed to be home tomorrow but he’s stuck out bush. Kenny knocked at the door last night to tell us. He got back because his Land Rover’s only light and was able to drive through the mud, but the trucks are cut off by flood waters. He said that’s typical of this country.
‘A man can be dying of thirst one day and up to his armpits in mud the next.’
Mum invited him to have tea with us. He told us he’s a Range Reconnaissance Officer, which means he surveys and makes tracks. He’s spent the past two years out on ‘the prairie’ west of here. (No-one else calls the desert ‘the prairie’, only Kenny.) He told us there are a million square miles of open country out there and hardly a human being to be seen.
‘Not that I can see very well nowadays. I used to have the eyesight of a wedge-tailed eagle, but the desert glare got to me. I have to wear a hat and dark glasses or I get a booming headache. My head aches from the glare and my body aches from bouncing around in the Land Rover all day. Mind you, I’m not complaining—I’ve got the best job in the world.’
Mum asked him to tell us more about what he does.
‘First I do a solo recce—reconnaissance—to work out where the bloomin’ track needs to go. Then the construction team and I head off scrub bashing and bulldozing. I try to keep the track as straight as possible. That’s the beauty of heavy equipment. You just barge straight through. As long as blokes like your Frank can keep the supplies up to us, nothing stops us. Water gets a bit tricky at times, but after this latest downpour there’ll be good supplies in all the waterholes and soaks.’
He told us how he’s nearly died of thirst a few times. It gets so hot in his Land Rover that the plastic holding the instrument panels in the dashboard perishes and the dials pop out.
‘Not that you need a speed gauge. You can only drive at crawling pace out there. I’ve lost count of the number of branches I’ve had impale my tyres and radiator over the years. Blowing a tyre’s not too bad. There’s air a-plenty out bush. But losing the water out of the radiator stretches precious resources.’
Mum wanted to know where his track went. He said it went gun-barrel straight all the way to Woop Woop.
‘But where? What’s at the end? What’s out there, Kenny?’
All he would say was that it led out onto the rocket range. If Dad had been there he wouldn’t have let Mum ask Kenny the questions she did.
If Dad’s right and Kenny knows more about what the military and scientists are planning, he could become a millionaire selling information to the Russians. Or they could kidnap him and get the information for free.
Dave, Robert and I did some more work on the billycart today. We’ve still only got three wheels but Robert had a good idea. We didn’t worry about a front wheel at all. We simply tied the steering ropes to the carrier on the back of Dave’s bike so we can hook the cart on behind, just like a trailer. It’s great fun to ride on. Dave said we can use it to carry the rabbit traps out to the burrows and bring back the dead bunnies.
Mum did her block today. I CRASHED off the billycart and took lots of skin off my legs. It hurt like crazy, but I didn’t tell her that. The hurt wasn’t like when I had polio. That was bad pain and it went on for a long time. This was more like a stinging pain because of the gravel rash.
The prang happened just before lunch, so I wasn’t allowed out this arvo. Mum tried to blame Dave for making me take stupid risks, but I told her that wasn’t right. I helped make the cart and I wanted to have a go on it.
She told me to think before I did silly things.
‘Think about your own safety and think about me. I’ve put years of my life, Anthony, into helping you get mobile and I don’t want to see you throw all that away.’ She told me ‘my father’ would speak to me when he gets back. ‘As if I don’t have enough to worry about without you acting irresponsibly.’
I’m not worried about Dad. He wants me to toughen up. I wish Mum would relax. I’m not a baby any more and I’m not crippled with polio. I’m better.
I finished my best-ever rocket drawing tonight. I wonder if anyone at school will buy it. If I knew any spies I could sell it and get rich. (That’s a joke.)
Jonathon’s drawing is finished too.
Good news all round. Dad got back, I sold my drawings and I got an order to do another one.
Dad had a real adventure. He wouldn’t tell us where he’d been but said they got stuck at a place called Tallaringa (he told me how to spell it). That’s way out in the desert. He said on the way out the creek bed had only been dry rocks and sand, but on the way back it was a mile wide with rushing floodwaters.
No-one got bogged but they had to wait for the level to drop before they could get across and drive home. He didn’t mind. He was in a convoy with his mates. They played cards and relaxed.
Dad’s happy to camp out. He loves the bush.
The third test match ended in another draw. The rain washed out a lot of play and when they resumed Australia had to bat on a wet wicket. We lost eight wickets for 35 runs! The ball must have been bouncing funny because the pitch was wet.
Mum asked why they don’t cover the wicket when it rains. Dad and I laughed. You’d need to have a giant tent to do that. That wasn’t one of Mum’s best ideas.
‘Maybe they should put a roof over the whole oval then,’ she added. I don’t think Mum realises how big an oval is. You could never cover anything that big, and if you did it would be so dark you couldn’t play the game.
Dave set traps last night. We went out this morning to check them and found two trapped bunnies. Dave donged them dead. We also saw another rabbit with myxie. I wondered why it didn’t run away. Dave went around downwind and sneaked right up close. He could have touched it, but didn’t because it was diseased. He clapped his hands and it got a massive fright.
We watched it hopping around in circles. Its eyes looked all mucky. I asked Dave what would happen to it. He laughed and asked, ‘What do you think? It’ll die of thirst probably, or a wedgie will swoop down and carry it off for its young to eat.’
I watched it for a while. It looked sick and frightened. It took me a while to make up my mind, but eventually I took Dave’s donger, crept up like I’d seen him do and CLUBBED it on the head. It died instantly.
I felt terrible. I’d never killed anything before. But I have experienced death up close. When I was in the polio ward, two boys died. That made me very sad at the time. One of them was my friend and I had no-one to talk to about it. The nurses carried on as if it didn’t happen.
Robert came around this arvo to ask me to do another drawing. He wanted me to draw a Jindivik jet. He showed me a photo. It was easy. I did a sketch while he was there. If I practise once or twice more I’ll be able to draw one from memory: square-topped tail fins, three wide stripes on the body and a needle-sharp point at the front. If anyone pays me to draw this I won’t be able to charge much. It’s too easy.
Robert said his dad lost another Jindivik this week when it crash-landed. It wasn’t totally wrecked like some of them are. I wonder how much it costs to build a new one. And whether they can re-use parts of the ones that crash.
They test a Jindivik every two weeks, so the scientists and technicians are always busy. During each flight they take hundreds of photos so they can see where the flight goes wrong, which it often does. If the scientists can find the exact moment a problem occurred they can make modifications before the next test flight.
Robert said his dad won’t miss one photo for a few days.
I knew it would happen. Mr Crouch asked me to give a talk to the class about polio. I hate talking about it. I’ve recovered. Besides, I don’t like talking about myself.
I know some of the dumb questions they’ll ask me. People always ask the same things.
How can you walk without callipers?
Did you have to live in an Iron Lung?
How did you know you had polio?
How did I know? I couldn’t get out of bed, that’s how I knew. And I was sweating, my head ached, my body ached, my neck was stiff, my throat was sore and my legs wouldn’t work. I was so sick for a few days I didn’t know I couldn’t walk. I didn’t want to get up. That’s how I knew!
I remember some of what happened when I first became ill and I remember other bits because of what Mum’s told me since. She wanted to stay with me at the hospital, but they wouldn’t let her. She was only allowed to look at me through a glass window—once a week. Visitors weren’t allowed. She visited the hospital every day even though she couldn’t see me. I won’t tell the class that though, or they’ll think I’m a mummy’s boy.
I remember how lonely I felt back then. Maybe that’s why I’m always keen to make friends now. I wasn’t allowed to have any friends visit at the time I most needed them.
Thank goodness I had my comics and the cricket on the wireless. And Mum.
My classmates said they were scared of catching polio and so did Mr Crouch. It’s usually caught by young people, but older people like him can get it too.
They wanted to know how long I was in hospital, how I got rid of the polio and how I got it. The person who asked that said he’d heard it’s caused by not keeping clean. I told him that wasn’t how I got it. ‘Quite the opposite. I caught it in the Townsville swimming pool.’
After I was put into hospital they fumigated Mum and Dad’s house and they had to stay home for three weeks. It’s called quarantine. The neighbours used to buy food for them and leave it at the front gate. When they were allowed out again some mothers wouldn’t talk to Mum in case she was still contagious.
I couldn’t move for weeks and needed help to go to the toilet. That was really embarrassing. I got lots of bed sores because I couldn’t move and the nurses used to cover me in powder, just like a baby.
One night I fell out of bed. The doctor was very excited. He said my muscles must be getting stronger if I could move enough to fall out.
At the beginning, when I was really sick, I couldn’t talk properly because my throat muscles were tight. I was lucky my lungs worked okay and I could breathe.
A boy in my class said his cousin had to live in an Iron Lung for months because his lung muscles stopped working. It’s funny, I was petrified they’d put me in an Iron Lung and yet I’m not afraid of being locked inside a rocket ship.
Someone asked me where I went to school while I was sick. I told them I missed a whole year while I was in hospital and did little bits by correspondence when I was feeling better. Mum was my teacher. Some of them didn’t know what correspondence is so I told them. There was heaps they didn’t know. I hate talking about it. It seems so dumb. I just want to forget about it now that I’m better. It’s no big deal. Half of the people who get polio recover fully. I hope I do. My legs are still a bit weak. I’ll never run in the Olympics or play cricket for Australia, but I will play cricket.
I told the class one good thing about having had polio is that my arms are really strong. ‘I can beat anyone in an Indian arm wrestle.’ Mr Crouch let me wrestle three boys. I beat each of them easily. Dave thought that was the best part of my talk.
Another good thing about catching polio was getting Rusty. He’s been my best friend since Mum gave him to me.
The dumbest question anyone asked was, ‘Can you get polio by sucking chook or magpie feathers?’ Even Mr Crouch knew that wasn’t true. Who’d do that, anyway?
Jonathon said people in England contract polio too and the American kids said it’s there as well. Scientists aren’t sure how to stop people getting it, but they’re working on it. Robert said his dad knows a scientist who’s developing a vaccine. Someone asked what a vaccine is. It’s an injection that stops you getting a disease.
I don’t want anyone else to be as sick as I was. Maybe I should become a scientist and discover the vaccine myself.
Dave told me my talk was really interesting. He reckons it’s amazing that I can walk now after how sick I’ve been. He said he’d hate not being able to walk and taking months to learn to walk again. Dave’s not very patient.
I told him callipers were better than crutches because it wasn’t so obvious you were crippled. They both hurt when you were learning to use them. The crutches bruise under your arms and the callipers bruise your legs. The doctors and nurses made adjustments to my callipers every day when I first wore them, to make them fit better.
Robert and Jonathon had an argument after school. Robert was mucking around and called Jonathon’s father a boffin. He didn’t like that. What really made Jonathon cross, though, was when Robert called him a ‘Pom’. He said it was an insult. Robert said it wasn’t. I said I thought it was okay. Dad’s always talking about ‘the Pommies in Woomera’ and ‘the Pommy test cricket team’.
Dave agreed. ‘A Pom’s a Pom. What’s so bad about that?’
Jonathon’s mother arrived then to pick him up so the argument stopped.
Once he’d gone I asked Robert what a boffin is. He said it’s a scientist.
‘That means your dad’s a boffin, too.’
‘Exactly. That’s why I wasn’t insulting Jonathon’s father. If I had been I’d have been insulting my father as well. He’s such a snob, that kid. You can tell by the way he talks and because he won’t play with us on the weekends.’
I said he can’t help the way he talks. Mum calls his way of speaking ‘the Queen’s English’. As for not playing with us, I asked Robert if he knew how strict Jonathon’s parents were. I said Jonathon wanted to play with us but his mother’s scared he’ll get dirty or sunburned. Dave said that’s true and told Robert to stop whinging.
‘I’m not whinging. It’s a fact that the Pommy scientists get all the best houses.’
After he left Dave said he thinks Robert’s jealous of Jonathon. ‘Who cares who’s got the biggest house? I hate houses. I prefer being outside.’
While we were having tea I told Mum about my talk to the class and she told me more about the Sister Kenny Polio Clinic in Townsville. She’d told me before but I’d forgotten most of it. Mum thinks Sister Kenny’s a saint. Dad said Mum deserves a medal for the way she nursed me.
‘She might have followed Sister Kenny’s methods, Anthony, but she also put in a mighty effort. She bathed you in hot water to relax your leg muscles, cold water to stimulate them and rubbed your legs every day with all manner of ointments and oils to get you back on deck.
‘Mum got your legs moving again, son, long before your feet touched the ground. Your mum’s a good nurse, Anthony.’
Mum looked embarrassed. ‘I was a good nurse, Frank. It’s now six years since I worked in a hospital. Nursing would have changed a lot in that time.’
Then she smiled and said she knew what Dad’s game was. ‘You’re handing out compliments because you men folk are planning on sitting up half the night listening to another silly game of cricket.’
I told Mum I wanted to play cricket one day. She answered, ‘Not while you live under this roof, Anthony.’ I didn’t bother to argue with her.
I told Mum about the argument between Robert and Jonathon. She said that some people measure their success by the level of their education, the importance of their job and the size of their house. ‘But look at your father’s friend, Kenny. He’s got very little education, lives out bush and dresses like a swagman, but he’s respected by everyone, including famous scientists.’
Tonight’s day two of the fourth test. England batted last night and we got them all out for 167. We’ll beat them this time, for sure.
Mum was really excited today. She got a big parcel on last night’s Tea and Sugar train. It’s filled with library books that she ordered from the library in Adelaide. There’s no library in Woomera apart from the one in the school, and she’s not allowed to borrow from there. Mum wishes she’d found out weeks ago how to borrow from Adelaide. I hope the books make her less grumpy.
She used to read and garden and visit her friends every day in Townsville. Since she’s been here she hasn’t had her books, her garden or her friends. Dad thinks that’s why she’s not happy. He gets cross with her and says she needs to get out more so she can make new friends. I’m different from Mum. I go out tons more here than I used to in Townsville.
I slept in this morning because last night I sat up listening to the cricket. Australia are one hundred runs ahead on the first innings. If it doesn’t rain again we’ll go one up in the series.
Dave and I have decided we aren’t going to shoot near the tanks any more. If someone dobs on us we’ll lose the gun and get into trouble with our parents. Or at least I certainly will. Dave might not.
We don’t need to shoot birds because there are plenty of easier targets at the moment—rabbits. They hop around in the daylight because they’re blind with myxie and can’t find their burrows. They’re such easy targets that we have a competition to see who can hit one from the furthest away. Dave’s still the best shot, but I’m improving. Robert is hopeless. He misses by a mile. You can see the puffs of dust where his shots hit the ground.
I did my best-ever drawing tonight. I started it late this afternoon and it’s already finished. It’s only little. It shows a rocket exploding before it could blow up a city. I drew a dotted line to show how it had been intercepted by a Jindivik that blasted it out of the sky. BLAM! Another city saved, and this time without the help of Superman. I’m getting really good at drawing rockets. And I’m getting rich. I wonder who will buy this one?
Today’s newspaper said we won the Korean War. Korea’s near Japan. I don’t know much about wars except Australian soldiers always win. I wonder if we dropped atomic bombs to beat the Koreans like we did the Japanese.
Mum was pleased with the news. When I asked her why she said she was opposed to wars.
‘But Dad’s in the Army. You have to believe in wars.’
She explained that it was exactly because Dad’s in the Army that she prays for peace. She doesn’t want him killed.
I think that’s strange. Surely soldiers are in the Army to fight. I told her that Dad’s a really good shot and he’s brave. He’d help us win a war. She said as brave as Dad is, he wouldn’t have a hope in the next world war because of atomic bombs.
I told her I don’t think she’s right. America’s the only country that has atomic bombs and they won’t attack us. She said that’s not correct. The Russians have atomic bombs too, and they’re our enemy.
I wonder if Australia will ever have its own atomic bombs. I guess that’s why we’re helping the British. They’ll use their bombs to protect us against the Russians.
I asked Jonathon if the British will help Australian scientists build our own atomic bombs after we help them test theirs.
‘Not necessarily. British scientists helped the Americans build their bomb, but after the war the Americans refused to share the technical knowledge. The British Government is more generous than that.’ He thought we should feel privileged the British Government chose Australia, out of all the nations in the Commonwealth, as the test site.
I was curious to know what was so special about an atomic bomb and why they were so difficult to build. Jonathon said they were different from normal bombs, where a detonator explodes and sets off an even bigger explosion.
‘To create a massive atomic explosion you need miniscule particles called atoms.’
He held up his drink bottle. ‘In here is water. If I heat it the H2O atoms break up into tiny particles, form steam and float away. If I freeze the water, the atoms join together and form an icy lump. If water did not consist of atoms, it could not change form and shape.’
Dave looked puzzled. ‘How do you make an explosion from water?’
‘You don’t, David. I used water only as an example to explain how everything is made up of tiny atoms.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes. Your paper school books, your wooden cricket bat, the hard blackboard, the soft chalk, even you. Your body couldn’t change and grow if you weren’t made up of tiny atoms that are able to rearrange themselves.’
‘Are you saying I’m a walking time-bomb that could explode at any minute?’
Jonathon sighed. ‘You’re getting off the track. Atomic explosions are created by the energy that’s only inside the atom of special elements. Human flesh and bone atoms are not the right type.’ He went on to explain that inside every atom are even tinier particles that float around each other like planets around the sun.
Dave snorted. ‘That’s impossible. Do you expect us to believe that inside an atom, something that’s so small we can’t see it, there are even tinier things spinning around in orbits?’
‘Yes, and if you fire a tiny high-speed particle into one atom and knock one or more of the ‘planets’ out of their safe orbits, they ricochet off each other and crash out of their atom’s shell, which releases energy. And as each one of those freed ‘planets’ crashes into other atoms they free other ‘planets’ which ricochet off into other atoms. Thus with one small man-made action you can quickly cause a massive chain reaction that releases atomic energy. And because all that energy is released, an atomic explosion occurs.’
Dave looked puzzled. Then he smiled. ‘So firing something into an atom is like throwing a cat among pigeons or loosing Rusty into a nest of rabbits—they charge off in every direction?’
It was Jonathon’s turn to look perplexed. ‘That’s not how I pictured it, but you have provided an interesting example, David.’
The fourth test match ended in a draw too. Australia only needed another thirty runs to win but we ran out of time. We still had six wickets left. England made it a draw by batting slowly. We scored our runs twice as quickly as they did. Dad reckons they’ll kill the game for spectators if they continue to bat so slowly.
I hope they don’t. I want to go to a real live test match one day.
I sold my latest drawing. A boy in third year bought it for sixpence. Dave doesn’t like him and didn’t want me to sell it to him. He says he’s a bully, just like his old man, who’s a security guard. The security guards think they’re tough because they check everyone’s passes every time they go in or out of the village. Dad goes through a lot more than we do. They know exactly who he is but they still make him stop and show his pass. He calls them Little Hitlers because they love their little bit of power.
‘They all know me. I’ve been here longer than any of them but they still make me show my pass everywhere I go. You’d think they owned the place.’
Mum doesn’t like them either because she’s noticed they never smile and they don’t mix like most people in Woomera. Not that Mum mixes much.
Only three weeks till the holidays. Soon after that it’ll be cricket season in Australia. I can’t wait. Mum’s not looking forward to spending summer here. She’s heard it’s incredibly hot.
Dad’s all excited because an Around Australia car rally, called the Redex trial, is about to start in Sydney. He showed me the route on a map. Two hundred cars are going to drive up the east coast through Brisbane and Townsville, then go inland on the dirt roads until they reach Darwin. Then they’re coming right down the middle of Australia to Adelaide. Dad said locals from here have to travel to Port Augusta if they want to see the cars.
He doesn’t know how many will be left in the race by the time they get this far. ‘Bush roads are hard on cars, especially if you try to belt along on them.’ He laughed and said, ‘That wouldn’t worry me though. I know how to drive on outback roads. I’d love to be part of something like that.’
Mum didn’t think it sounded like much fun. She said men love to waste time playing around with machines, making them bigger and more powerful.
‘For what? Why can’t they spend their time making life better for people like Sister Kenny did, instead of trying to make it worse?’
Sometimes I can’t work out why Mum and Dad got married. They don’t seem to have much in common. Dad’s always been interested in motors and driving and being out bush. Mum likes town life and helping people. Dad says that’s why she was such a good nurse. I wonder why she doesn’t go back to nursing. I don’t need her help any more. My polio’s gone. Maybe that’s why she’s so grumpy. She doesn’t feel needed.
Dad heard through the base wireless that the rally cars passed through Townsville today. His mates are as excited as he is. Mum said men who are employed to defend our country should spend more time doing that job and less time thinking about unimportant things like car races. I don’t think she really meant that. It’s hard to tell at the moment. She’s grumpy most of the time.
Mum often says she wishes she was back in Townsville, but tonight was the first time Dad’s said that. He only wished it because the rally cars are passing through there.
Mum’s expecting another parcel of books today. I hope they arrive because when she’s reading, she’s not so grumpy. She didn’t used to be like this. Dad says Woomera brings out the worst in some people.
‘It’s the isolation. Hopefully she’ll come around.’
Dad’s heard the rally cars are due in Darwin this weekend. They’ll be heading down this way soon. He can’t wait.
Dave, Robert and I played in our yard all afternoon. Mum was happy. She likes it when I play where she can keep an eye on me.
Talking about the rally reminded us that we each had a few old Dinky cars. We hadn’t played with them since we were little kids. We got a spade and made roads, bumps and jumps for our own backyard Redex course. We spent more time making the track than we did playing.
Dave was a terrible driver. He pushed his cars too fast and they kept rolling over. He lost rally points every time that happened, so even though one of his cars was always the first to finish, he never won a race. He lost too many points. Robert said that’s how the real rally works. The winner is the car that loses the least points while finishing each stage.
Dad told us there are two people in each car—the driver and the navigator. The navigator reads the map and gives directions. The driver follows directions and drives as fast as he can. Dave said he doesn’t want to be a navigator because he’d have to think too much. ‘I just want to drive.’ Dad agreed that that was the job for him too.
Robert suggested we do an experiment. ‘I’ll show you how an atomic explosion happens.’
He told us to push most of the cars together so they were touching, then he CRASHED another one into them at high speed. Cars bounced off in every direction, but quickly stopped.
‘The dirt slowed them down. Let’s do it again on the veranda.’
This time the cars went further from the centre of the ‘explosion’.
I had a brainwave. I ran and got my marbles then bunched them tightly together. Boy, did they ricochet a long way when we threw another marble into them!
Mum appeared at the door and wanted to know what all the excitement was about. Dave said Professor Anthony had just successfully tested atomic theory.
She looked hard at me. ‘Well, I hope Professor Anthony’s end-of-term school report proves he’s as smart as you say he is.’
Great news! Dad’s going to take Dave and me to see the Redex cars pass through Port Augusta on Thursday. It’ll be a long day. We’re catching the Tea and Sugar train south on Wednesday night and back home again on Thursday night. Dad can only get one day’s leave. One of his mates will drive us to the station at Pimba. Mum’s worried that I’ll get over-tired if I don’t get much sleep for two nights.
What a fun day we had yesterday.
We got off the train at Port Augusta, had breakfast at a café near the railway station, then walked to the checkpoint where the rally cars had to stop. When the cars arrived they were dinged and dusty, but the drivers were really friendly. It was amazing to think they’d driven halfway around Australia in just a few days.
They’re expected back in Sydney in three more days. They’ve finished on the dirt roads now. It’s all bitumen from Port Augusta to Adelaide, then Melbourne, then Sydney.
One day I’d like to drive to those places. I don’t want to do it as part of a rally. I want to drive slowly and stop in each city. Townsville is the biggest city I’ve ever seen. It didn’t have buildings higher than two storeys. American cities in the Superman comics have skyscrapers. I’d love to walk to the top of the Empire State Building so I can prove my legs are strong. It’s 102 storeys high. I wonder if that’s higher than Mount Everest.
The cars came in one at a time. They were covered in dust. A couple had hit ‘roos during the night—THUD—and smashed their grills and headlights. Others had bottomed out in big bulldust holes and pushed their bumpers up at weird angles.
Dad wanted to meet ‘Gelignite’ Jack Murray but was told he couldn’t because Jack had rolled his car near Cloncurry and was out of the race. Dad told us Jack got his nickname because he used gelignite to blow up a campsite dunny. Dave thought that was hilarious.
On the train coming home Dad was still excited. He told us that when he gets out of the Army he’s going to drive in a rally.
Dad had to go back to work this morning but he let me stay home from school. Mum didn’t mind either. She knew I didn’t get much sleep on the train. Dad got even less. He let me stretch out across his seat so I could sleep better. He sat up and talked to other adults about the rally cars.
When I told Mum that Dad’s going to drive in the rally one year, she wasn’t impressed. She said it’s about time he grew up and stopped acting like a boy.
I think it’s a good idea. Dad’s mad about cars and motors and loves driving and he loves the bush. He’d make a good Around Australia rally driver.
When Dad got home from work at teatime he looked exhausted. He said he needed an early night to catch up on his sleep.
Mum wasn’t in a calm mood though. She’d read in the paper that Russia has exploded a hydrogen bomb. The news frightened her and she wanted to talk to Dad about it. He didn’t want to listen, but that didn’t stop Mum from trying.
‘Where will it all end? It’s a race towards the end of the world. Why, Frank, why? If they destroy everything, no-one wins. This arms race is so stupid. The Americans build an atomic bomb, so the Russians build one. The Americans build a hydrogen bomb, so the Russians build one. Now the Americans claim they’ve got a super hydrogen bomb. It’s madness. Both countries can already destroy the world several times over.’
Dad said it’s not a super hydrogen bomb, it’s a megaton bomb. He claimed Mum had been reading too many of my Superman comics.
‘You’re right, Frank. I have been reading, but not comics. I’ve been reading newspapers and books, and what I’ve read frightens me. It’s not the bomb blast I’m worried about, though heaven knows that’s bad enough. It’s the fallout from the bombs that concerns me.’
Dad told her he was too tired for such a serious discussion. He said she was being melodramatic and walked out of the room to lie on the couch in the lounge.
I thought if I talked to Mum they might stop arguing. I asked her what fallout is. She said it’s an invisible poison that radiates out from the centre of an atomic or hydrogen bomb blast and is carried by the wind. It can drift for hundreds, maybe thousands of miles. It poisons any land or water it falls on and makes people sick if they eat or drink anything from the contaminated areas.
‘And it doesn’t go away, Anthony. It makes people sick for years afterwards and it kills people who get too much radiation. And now the British Government is going to explode a similar bomb just up the road from us.’
Dad shouted from the lounge that the test site is not just up the road. It’s hundreds of miles from here. And it’s upwind. ‘We’re perfectly safe. The winds will take any fallout into the desert to the north-west.’
She yelled back that there were people living in that direction.
Dad appeared at the kitchen door and sneered. ‘Oh, come off it, Beryl. Be real. There are only a handful of station people out there and the government has built them special bomb shelters.’
Mum didn’t back down.
‘So it’s that simple, is it? If you believe that then you’re the one who’s not being real. They can shelter during the blast but the fallout remains for years. And what about Aboriginal people living out there? Have they been given bomb shelters too?’
‘The government has Native Patrol Officers removing them from the danger area and warning them not to go back till it’s safe.’
‘And just when will it be safe? They live off the land. They don’t wear clothes, they sleep on the ground, walk barefoot and eat animals that eat the grasses. They can’t escape the fallout, Frank.’
Dad was fuming. He shouted that he’d had enough for one night and was going down to the Mess. As he was leaving he said he had trust in the government. ‘If they say it’s safe, Beryl, it’s safe. If they say they’re protecting everyone, then I believe them.
‘I’m in the Army, Beryl. I follow orders, not question them. I just do my job. I don’t want to know about any of this stuff you’re on about.’
He SLAMMED the door and left. It was suddenly very quiet. But then Mum started to cry. I asked her if she was all right. She said ‘Yes’, but straight away went to her bedroom and shut the door.
The fifth test starts tonight, but I won’t sit up and listen to it. I do not want to be awake when Dad comes home. If he comes home.
This morning was really weird. Dad was home but looked pretty crook and Kenny was with him. Dad ran into him at the Mess and invited him around. Mum cooked bacon and eggs on toast. She served Kenny politely but BANGED Dad’s plate down in front of him.
Kenny tried to keep things bright and happy. He told us he’d been out at Emu again but it had become too crowded for his liking.
‘I can handle working with half-a-dozen blokes bush-bashing and road making, although even that’s a few too many. I’m happiest when I’m alone on a recce. Can’t argue with anyone then.’ He looked at Mum and Dad as he said that. Dad must have told him about their humdinger argument.
Mum asked him what all the men were doing out in the desert. He said that they were just doing rocket range work.
‘Kenny, I’m not stupid. The government doesn’t build barracks for men in the middle of the rocket flight path if they’re planning to fire rockets in that direction. They’re getting Emu ready for these atomic bomb tests, aren’t they?’
Kenny didn’t say yes or no, but he did say the British and Australian governments are simply trying to free mankind from the fear of war.
Before Mum could ask any more embarrassing questions Dad leapt up and suggested Kenny have a shower to wash off the dust.
I cleared out too and came to my room. In a minute I’m going to sneak off to Dave’s. I can hear Mum banging dishes around in the kitchen.
An atomic blast couldn’t be much worse than this.
When I got home for lunch Dad had gone to the Mess. Mum hardly spoke while we ate. I said I’d do the dishes and told her to sit on the couch and read.
‘Thanks, Anthony. You’re more thoughtful than some men.’
Dave, Robert and I rode to the store this arvo to buy iceblocks. While we were in the square eating them, Jonathon sat with us. He was waiting for his mother to finish shopping. I didn’t tell the boys about Mum and Dad’s argument. Instead I asked them about atomic and hydrogen bombs. I was curious to know if any of what Mum said was true.
Robert told me the Russians didn’t really test a hydrogen bomb. It was a prototype. I had no idea what that was. He explained it’s only a small step away from the real thing.
I asked them if any of the bombs could blow up the whole world. They didn’t know, but Jonathon said the Americans had already wiped out a whole island in the Pacific. One minute it was there, then—BOOM! When the mushroom cloud blew away there was no island. It had completely vanished. Robert said that’s true. His father had told him the same story.
‘The Americans have tested bigger bombs since then and the Russians are trying to race them.’
I don’t know exactly where Russia is. If they played test cricket I’d know. I know where England, South Africa, India and the West Indies are because they play test matches against us.
What a terrible weekend so far. I’ve hardly had any sleep for two nights. First Mum and Dad had the big argument, then I got arrested.
We’d just finished eating last night when there was a knock at the door. Two Commonwealth Policemen came in and said they wanted to ask me some questions down at the station.
Mum and Dad wanted to know what I’d done, but the policemen wouldn’t say. When I told them I hadn’t done anything they didn’t respond except to say we had to leave immediately. Mum and Dad were asked to come with me.
My first thought was that someone had reported Dave and me for shooting the slug gun near the town’s water tanks. Mum and Dad would kill me if they found out.
At the station they made me sit down on one side of a wide desk. Mum and Dad were told to sit behind me and say nothing.
I was scared.
They said they were investigating two possible offences. The minor one was a firearms offence. The more serious allegation involved spying. I was so frightened I could hardly speak. My mouth dried up and my legs started shaking. I nearly cried. It was just like in the movies. They had a big light shining on me that made me squint and sweat. I couldn’t see their faces when they started asking questions.
I told them all about the slug gun and who’d been shooting it with me. I told them we shot targets and killed rabbits and birds. I also told them about nearly shooting the men working behind the water tanks, but it was the target practice they were most interested in.
Why was I practising?
Who did I plan to shoot?
When they asked me those questions, tears came out. I hadn’t cried since I was a little kid and the nurses hurt me. But I couldn’t control it now. The men were so mean to me.
Eventually they gave me a toilet break but I wasn’t allowed to speak to Mum and Dad or even look at them.
As soon as I came back they asked me about the spying. It wasn’t the same men. I couldn’t see their faces, but the voices were different.
They asked me if I knew what spying was. They asked me if I knew what the penalties for spying were. They asked me who was paying me. Was it the Russians? I told them I didn’t know where Russia was and I’d never met any Russians.
‘What about Australians who are working for the Russians? Can you name any Russian agents?’ I told them I wasn’t a spy.
‘Then why are you receiving stolen photos of Top Secret rockets and jet planes? And why are you selling detailed drawings of Top Secret weapons?’
‘Who are you selling to, lad?’
‘How much are the Russians paying per drawing?’
I was bombarded with questions and felt so stressed I started to shake. Mum leapt forward, hugged me from behind and told them to stop bullying me. ‘Give Anthony time to calm down and answer.’
They told her to move back, but she didn’t. She sat next to me and held my hand while I answered. I told them I was only drawing pictures for my friends and I hadn’t asked Robert and Jonathon to bring me photos. They volunteered. I’d given all the photos back and said I’d give the money back too. I wasn’t a spy. I was just a kid.
Dad didn’t say anything. He’s in the Army and has to follow orders. Mum doesn’t.
I hope they believe I’m not a spy. I’m still under investigation. Another two Commonwealth Police Officers interviewed me again this morning. At least they did it at home where it wasn’t so scary and I could see their faces.
I’ve been restricted to our house until further notice. They even have a guard out the front so I can’t talk to anyone. I wonder what my friends think. Dave won’t believe I’m a spy. He’ll still want to play with me. I hope Robert’s parents won’t stop him from being my friend, but I bet Jonathon’s will.
Mum, Dad and I had a big talk at teatime. They’re not cross with me because of the drawings. They know that’s just a misunderstanding. They didn’t like the Commonwealth Police before this. They hate them now. Dad says they haven’t got enough to do if they’ve got to pick on kids. Mum says they’re bullies. Dad thinks they’re acting tough at the moment because the Russians have got the hydrogen bomb.
‘They think there’s a Red under every bed, son. They’ve got spy phobia. But why would the Russians want to spy on the British tests? They’ve already got the hydrogen bomb and the Poms haven’t even got an atomic bomb.’
‘Let’s hope they don’t get it,’ Mum added. He told her not to start that again. ‘We have more important issues to deal with right now.’ He said he was disappointed in me for playing with a gun. I said it was only a slug gun, but Mum said that wasn’t the point. It was a gun. ‘We’re united on this, Anthony. You did the wrong thing and you know you did.’
I apologised. They accepted it then sent me to my bedroom while they ‘discussed the matter further’.
Later they told me I’d been grounded for a week even if the police allow me out of the house. I hope I’m not grounded any longer than that. I had enough of being isolated when I was quarantined in the polio ward. And besides, this week’s the last of the term and I don’t want to be stuck home alone in the holidays.