fly me over. I’ll go with Qantas.’
‘It’s not as easy as that, Avice.’
‘I can’t go on that awful ship!’
‘Listen, Avice, I paid a lot of money to get you on to it, you hear me? And I’m shelling out a damn sight more to keep you in that ruddy hotel because you didn’t fancy naval lodgings. I can’t pay out even more for a flight to Blighty just because you don’t like the facilities on board the ship.’
‘But, Daddy—’
‘Sweetheart, I’d love to help, really, but you’ve no idea how hard it was to get you on board.’
‘But, Daddy!’ She stamped her foot and the receptionist glanced at her. She lowered her voice to a whisper: ‘I know what you’re doing – don’t think I don’t know why you’re refusing to help me.’
Her mother broke in, her voice firm. ‘Avice, you’re right. I think the ship thing is a very bad idea.’
‘You do?’ Avice felt a flicker of hope. Her mother understood the importance of travelling comfortably. She knew that things should be done properly. What would Ian think if she turned up looking like a navvy?
‘Yes. I think you should come home today. Get on a train first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Home?’
‘The whole thing has just too many ifs and buts. This ship business sounds absolutely awful, you haven’t heard from Ian in goodness knows how long—’
‘He’s at sea, Mummy.’
‘—and I just think all the signs are against you. Cut your losses, darling, and come home.’
‘What?’
‘You know nothing about this man’s family. Nothing. You have no idea if there’s even going to be anyone to meet you at the other end. That’s if this warship even gets there. Come home, darling, and we’ll sort it all out from here. Plenty of girls change their minds. You read about them all the time.’
‘Plenty of girls get dumped too,’ called Deanna.
‘I’m married, Mummy.’
‘And I’m sure we can do something about that. I mean, hardly anyone over here even knows.’
‘What?’
‘Well, it was only a little do, wasn’t it? We could have it annulled or something.’
Avice was incredulous. ‘Annulled? Ugh! You’re both such hypocrites! I know what you’re doing. You got me on the rottenest old ship you could find just so I wouldn’t want to travel.’
‘Avice—’
‘Well, too bad. You’re not going to make me change my mind about Ian.’
The receptionist had given up any pretence of not listening and was agog, leaning over her counter. Avice placed her hand over the receiver and raised her eyebrows at the girl. Embarrassed, she busied herself with some paperwork.
Her father broke back in: ‘You there? Avice?’ He sighed heavily. ‘Look, I’ll wire you some money. Leave it a while, if you want. Sit tight at the Wentworth. We’ll talk about this.’
Avice could hear her mother still wittering in the background. Her sister was demanding to know why she was staying at Sydney’s best hotel. ‘No, Daddy,’ she said. ‘Tell Mummy and Deanna I’ll be on the damned ship to meet my husband. I’ll get there my own way, even if it does mean swimming in diesel fuel and stinking troops, because I love him. I love him . I won’t ring again, but you can tell her – tell Mummy I’ll wire her at the other end. When Ian – my husband – has met me.’
3
To be eligible for an appointment in the Australian Army Nursing Service, the applicant had to be a trained registered nurse, a British subject, single, without dependants . . . medically fit and of good character and personal attributes essential to the making of an efficient army nurse.
Joan Crouch, ‘A Special Kind of Service’,
The Story of the 2/9 Australian
General Hospital 1940–46
Morotai, Halmaheras Islands, South Pacific, 1946
One week to embarkation
There was a full moon over Morotai. With a melancholy lucidity, it illuminated the still night, the heat so stifling that even the gentle sea breezes that could normally be relied on to filter
‘It’s not as easy as that, Avice.’
‘I can’t go on that awful ship!’
‘Listen, Avice, I paid a lot of money to get you on to it, you hear me? And I’m shelling out a damn sight more to keep you in that ruddy hotel because you didn’t fancy naval lodgings. I can’t pay out even more for a flight to Blighty just because you don’t like the facilities on board the ship.’
‘But, Daddy—’
‘Sweetheart, I’d love to help, really, but you’ve no idea how hard it was to get you on board.’
‘But, Daddy!’ She stamped her foot and the receptionist glanced at her. She lowered her voice to a whisper: ‘I know what you’re doing – don’t think I don’t know why you’re refusing to help me.’
Her mother broke in, her voice firm. ‘Avice, you’re right. I think the ship thing is a very bad idea.’
‘You do?’ Avice felt a flicker of hope. Her mother understood the importance of travelling comfortably. She knew that things should be done properly. What would Ian think if she turned up looking like a navvy?
‘Yes. I think you should come home today. Get on a train first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Home?’
‘The whole thing has just too many ifs and buts. This ship business sounds absolutely awful, you haven’t heard from Ian in goodness knows how long—’
‘He’s at sea, Mummy.’
‘—and I just think all the signs are against you. Cut your losses, darling, and come home.’
‘What?’
‘You know nothing about this man’s family. Nothing. You have no idea if there’s even going to be anyone to meet you at the other end. That’s if this warship even gets there. Come home, darling, and we’ll sort it all out from here. Plenty of girls change their minds. You read about them all the time.’
‘Plenty of girls get dumped too,’ called Deanna.
‘I’m married, Mummy.’
‘And I’m sure we can do something about that. I mean, hardly anyone over here even knows.’
‘What?’
‘Well, it was only a little do, wasn’t it? We could have it annulled or something.’
Avice was incredulous. ‘Annulled? Ugh! You’re both such hypocrites! I know what you’re doing. You got me on the rottenest old ship you could find just so I wouldn’t want to travel.’
‘Avice—’
‘Well, too bad. You’re not going to make me change my mind about Ian.’
The receptionist had given up any pretence of not listening and was agog, leaning over her counter. Avice placed her hand over the receiver and raised her eyebrows at the girl. Embarrassed, she busied herself with some paperwork.
Her father broke back in: ‘You there? Avice?’ He sighed heavily. ‘Look, I’ll wire you some money. Leave it a while, if you want. Sit tight at the Wentworth. We’ll talk about this.’
Avice could hear her mother still wittering in the background. Her sister was demanding to know why she was staying at Sydney’s best hotel. ‘No, Daddy,’ she said. ‘Tell Mummy and Deanna I’ll be on the damned ship to meet my husband. I’ll get there my own way, even if it does mean swimming in diesel fuel and stinking troops, because I love him. I love him . I won’t ring again, but you can tell her – tell Mummy I’ll wire her at the other end. When Ian – my husband – has met me.’
3
To be eligible for an appointment in the Australian Army Nursing Service, the applicant had to be a trained registered nurse, a British subject, single, without dependants . . . medically fit and of good character and personal attributes essential to the making of an efficient army nurse.
Joan Crouch, ‘A Special Kind of Service’,
The Story of the 2/9 Australian
General Hospital 1940–46
Morotai, Halmaheras Islands, South Pacific, 1946
One week to embarkation
There was a full moon over Morotai. With a melancholy lucidity, it illuminated the still night, the heat so stifling that even the gentle sea breezes that could normally be relied on to filter
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