• Abstract and Figures
• Public Full-text

World War II, Children's Literature and Aspects of Novel 'We'll Meet Again': an exegesis Author Imlah, Cherie Published 2008 Thesis Type Thesis (PhD Doctorate) School School of Arts DOI https://doi.org/10.25904/1912/1685 Copyright Statement The author owns the copyright in this thesis, unless stated otherwise. Downloaded from http://hdl.handle.net/10072/367830 Griffith Research Online https://research-repository.griffith.edu.au Acknowledgment I thank the Potoroo Mimbee Elders (Central Coast) Corporation for their approval to use the name Turo” in this novel, and I trust I have paid due respect to characterisation of him from my imagination and memories as a young girl. 2 WE’LL MEET AGAIN Copyright Cherie Imlah © 2007 3 CHAPTER ONE They were ready to go. Lizzie and Bobby held small suitcases and were dressed in their best clothes. Their Mother opened the gate into the back lane. Bobby, a blonde-haired, slightly-built boy of nine years, was kicking the concrete path, looking sulky, while Lizzie tried to hold back tears as she said goodbye to her Grandmother. 4 “Now, Lizzie, I put a writing pad and envelopes and some stamps in your case. Don’t forget to write, dear.” Lizzie was olive skinned, with dark hair and slim legs which seemd too long for her slight body. She had just had her twelfth birthday. “No, Nan, I won’t. I’ll write every week. Promise.” As Nan bent down to Bobby, he turned away angrily. She put her arms around his bony shoulders. “Now, dear, don’t upset your mother.” Bobby shrugged off the embrace, hiding his face in the fence. Nan patted his shoulder. She turned to her daughter. “I wish you’d let me go with them, Joyce. You aren’t well enough.” “You’ve got enough to do, Mum. I’ll be okay,” replied Joyce. “Come on, love, or we’ll miss the train.” Bobby was unconsoled. “Don’t wanna go. Why can’t I stay with Nan when you’re in hospital?” “Nan has to work. There’s no one to mind you, Bobby. Come on, be a good boy.” 5 “I can mind meself.” “Don’t be silly! Now come on! We’re running late.” His mother took his arm and pulled him into the lane. He pulled back as she tugged, and almost fell. Lizzie picked up his suitcase and her own, and followed. Nan stood at the gate, looking down the long, shadowed, dirt laneway flanked by old run-down buildings looming on either side. The straggling grass growing through rotted paling fences struggled to survive. As his mother dragged him along the lane, Bobby began to cry. His nose ran and she dipped into his shirt pocket, finding a handkerchief. She wiped his eyes and nose, then stuffed the handkerchief back into place. Lizzie looked on in disgust. “Stop being a crybaby, Bobby. I don’t want to go either. But we haveta. You know Mum’s sick.” “Aw shuddup, you!” Bobby glared at his sister. His mother took his hand again, and he followed reluctantly. They picked their way through scattered broken wine bottles, garbage spilling from bins, and old newspapers blowing in the wind, skirting a drunken man sprawled beside the wine parlour. As Lizzie passed he roused himself, trying to grab her ankle. She neatly avoided him, barely noticing his presence. There were always men like him in the lane. 6 As they reached the end of the laneway, Lizzie turned back to wave at Nan. Nan gave a cheery wave but as they all disappeared from view her smile faded to sadness. Lizzie, too, felt sad. She was going to stay with someone she’d never seen before: Aunty Ette. She shook off feelings of dread, and caught up with her mother and Bobby. * * * * * Central railway station was full of uniformed young men and young girls, clinging together in a last farewell. Billboards everywhere gave out grim messages of war in the Pacific, and allies on the run from the Japanese onslaught. Newspaper headline billboards declared: 7 DAILY TELEGRAPH SYDNEY, SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 1942. 833 R.A.N. Men Missing TWO AUSTRALIAN WARSHIPS LOST Cruiser Perth and Sloop Yarrah Vanish Mysteriously After Java Sea Action The vaulted dome of the upper level of the station rang with the sound of hurrying feet, loud voices and the hum of humanity going places. Pigeons fluttered up from scurrying feet, to the high supports of the dome. Bobby had never seen a steam train close-up before, and forgot his grievances when they stepped into the carriage. All the seats were in twos facing each other. Their mother found three spare seats. The other seat was occupied by a soldier. He wasn’t very old, and he had only one leg. He 8 smiled at Joyce and the children, between puffs of cigarette smoke. Joyce settled the children into their seats. Bobby jumped into the window seat and immediately hung out, looking at the train engine. Joyce grabbed him by the tail of his shirt, pulling him back. “Look out, Bobby! You’ll fall out.” The soldier winked at Bobby. “Hey, young fella, look out! Yer mum might miss ya.” The soldier rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a silver threepenny coin. He handed it to Bobby. Bobby took it silently, giving a shy smile. “What do you say, Bobby?” his mother asked. “Thanks,” Bobby said, shoving the coin in his pocket. The soldier rummaged in his pocket again. This time, he handed Lizzie a threepenny coin. Lizzie thanked him through clouds of cigarette smoke, trying not to cough. Bobby then noticed that the soldier’s leg was missing. He stared and stared. Lizzie kicked her brother’s foot, frowning, and her mother tried to divert his attention. 9 “Look, Bobby! See those big engines over there?” She pointed out the window. “Gee, look at all that smoke!” Bobby was instantly mesmerised by a moving engine. “It’s steam, silly,” Lizzie informed him. “That’s what I meant, stupid!” Bobby replied. Lizzie pulled a face. Bobby contented himself with craning his neck as far as he could. The upper level of Central station was busy with steam trains, the air hazy with bursts of hot air and smoke. The high roof of the main thoroughfare echoed with excited voices as passengers dragged suitcases, children and assorted parcels to the platforms, bundling them in. Some erupted into the carriage where Joyce, Lizzie and Bobby sat, scurrying through to find vacant seats at the last minute. Bobby was agog with the buzz of activity, and had forgotten about the idea of soon leaving his mother. Joyce looked at the young soldier. He was frail, and had his arm in a sling. “Thanks for giving them that money. You probably need it yourself.” “That’s alright, missus. Hope I’ll have some youngsters meself, one day.” 10 “Have you been overseas?” “Yeh, just got outa hospital. We was in Greece. Lucky to escape. Most didn’t.” The soldier slapped his thigh. “Lost this, but at least I’m not a prisoner of war. Poor devils! And now we’ve lost two warships in the Java seas. Lizzie gazed in horror at the man’s leg, then at her mother. “Mum, what about Dad?” “He’s in the Middle East, Lizzie. Nothing’s going to happen to him. You worry too much.” “But how do you know?” The soldier saw that Joyce didn’t know what to say. “Now, don’t worry your little head, sweetheart. We’re winning over there. Your Dad’ll be alright.” Lizzie looked at the soldier, unconvinced. The train moved off through railway yards coated with decades of smokey grime and coal dust, giving way to endless shabby suburbs of tin and tiled roof houses, squeezed into tiny yards where the occasional tree sought to grow. Windows had blackout blinds and curtains, glass shop fronts were concealed with makeshift boards, and car lights were blacked out. All reminded Lizzie of the war and her Dad. 11 Joyce and the soldier chatted about his future plans and the war. Lizzie listened, dozing intermittently. In between dozes, she thought about her father. He was in the Desert, fighting the Germans. Did the soldiers ride camels and live in tents? What did they eat? Maybe they were starving. Those food parcels wouldn’t go far. As soon as she was at Brimble Bay she’d knit Dad a scarf. They say it gets cold in the desert at night. The soldier’s voice filtered into her consciousness. “Yeh, and the Nips are on the march. They’ve even bombed Darwin, and now they’re in Rabaul. And those poor devils in Singapore. Yanks are here already. Most of ‘em haven’t been in a fight yet.” “Yes, they look very young, and they’ve got plenty of money to spend.” “Too bloody… oops! Sorry missus. The soldier’s voice turned bitter. Yeh, they certainly get the sheilas in, with all that money.” Lizzie had seen some of the American soldiers. Wonder why they call them “Yanks”? she thought. They looked much smarter than Australian soldiers and the English sailors, in their uniforms. She thought about Uncle Harry in Malaya, and the fall of Singapore. Was he a prisoner of war too? She shuddered, trying to erase the memory of newspaper photos and descriptions of the war she had read. 12 The train came out of a tunnel, high on a ridge. Down below was sparkling water and dense bush. Lizzie was entranced by the cool, green valleys looking as if no one had ever been in their sheltering forest.

Load more

  297

Copy Link