Kunapipi 18 (2 & 3) 1996 Full Version

Kunapipi, Dec 1996

Kunapipi 18 (2 & 3) 1996 Full Version.

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Kunapipi 18 (2 & 3) 1996 Full Version

0106-5734 Anna Rutherford 0 Recommended Citation 0 University of Aarhus , Denmark - 'f!TilKI~f{ ., •· " KT.!t~wA.P I·P 1.0-<.-:F-: ·~IVAR__~E)Y~ RD.\.).""ELLE8. RC'E l)A 1'Tl.F.. - S p e c i a l I s s u e o n i / I D.:U~DA.KELL 1 · . ,LE~DID ~.\LUX11 S.!OE TO TBl: OOv:r.B. Gl:Nl:RAL. · . I~~n _t .:1 mt't'Un "'-n.. ~eank '-' ·I t'OIIII ! nO~! I':. .I Mil .)}. 5 ,.. f!1Jl:'t~SU~ ~:h n'ltt3110n. \ •1,V!"T.• ~!4 1\nti:".IIOD. ,\pr1t \ !t.l.1 wlo~)!-a}- ~::~1•, ~··th t'"t- ! ;,O'IIF"Itl'•, e.u;u ll>I'IJ,i:. 1'0 Al'S'l'11.ALL\. WORK OF COT, Kunapipi is a tri-annual arts magazine with special but not exclusive emphasis on the new literatures written in English . It aims to fulfil the requirements T.S. Eliot believed a journal should have: to introduce the work of new or little known writers of talent, to provide critical eval­ uation of the work of Jiving authors, both famous and unknown, and to be truly international. It publishes creative material and criticism. Articles and reviews on related historical and sociological topics plus film will also be included as well as graphics and photographs. The editor invites creative and scholarly contributions. Manuscripts should be double-spaced with footnotes gathered at the end, should conform to the MHRA (Modern Humanities Research Association) Style Sheet. Wherever possible the submission should be on disc (soft-ware preferably Word for Windows, Wordperfect or Macwrite saved for PC) and should be accompanied by a hard copy. All correspondence - manuscripts, books for review, inquiries should be sent to: PLEASE NOTE CHANGE OF ADDRESS Anna Rutherford Editor- KUNAPIPI Department of English University of Wollongong Wollongong NSW Australia 2500 SUBCRIPTION RATES FOR 1996: Individuals: 1 year: £18 I US$35 I AUS$45 I CAN$45 Institutions: 1 year: £36 I US$60 I AUS$90 I CAN$90 Please address all subscription enquiries to: P.O. Box 20, Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, HX7 5UZ, UK email: Please note that if payment is made in currencies other than £ sterling, or Australian $, the equivalent of £5 must be added to cover banking costs. Cheques made payable to Kunapipi. Copyright© 1997 Dangaroo Press This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review as permitted under the Copyright Act no part may be reproduced without written permission. Enquiries should be made to the editor. Kunap ipi VOLUME XVIII NUMBERS 2 & 3, 1996 Special Editors for this Issue ANNA RUTHERFORD and JAMES WIELAND Associate Editors ANNE A. COLLETT and LARS JENSEN Poetry Editor ANNE A. COLLETT We wish to thank Vane Lindesay and John McLaren for providing the cartoons for the Vane Lindesay article and the Vane Lindesay and John McLaren article; Jan Brazier and Ken Inglis for supplying the photographs of the war memorials, with the exception of the two supplied by Anna Rutherford; Anna Gray for supplying the copies of the paintings used in her article; John McQuilton for supplying the documents for his article; the writers who agreed to answer the questions asked by Anna Rutherford; the following poets who gave permission to publish the poems included: Judith Rodriguez for 'Zouave Marching Team, Rollins College, 1913-14', to appear in her new and collected poems; Philip Salom, 'Seeing Gallipoli from the Sky', from Sky Poems (1987); Geoff Page, ' Smalltown Memorials' and 'Christ at Gallipoli' from SmaDtown Memorials {1975); Peter Kocan, 'Photograph' from The Other Side of the Fence {1975); Bruce Dawe, ' For the Other Fallen' from Towards sunrise: poems 1979-1986 (1986); Richard Kelly Tipping for 'VIETGRAM'; Kurwingie, 'Aboriginal Anzac'; Les A. Murray, 'The Ballad of the Barbed Wire Ocean', Collected Poems, (1994). We would also like to thank Jo Steele for permission to reproduce the Barbara Hanrahan print 'Poppy Day'; Albert Tucker for permission to reproduce 'Psycho, Heidelberg Military Hospital, 1942; and the late Sir Sidney Nolan to reproduce the sketch of the Anzac soldier. Finally, we would like to thank the Fryer Library at the University of Queensland, the National Library at Canberra and the Australian War Memorial for permission to reproduce material from their collections. We are grateful also to those other organisations and bodies who have given us permission to reproduce materials. The cover photograph is by David Beal and features the war memorial at Kapunda, South Australia. While every attempt has been made to trace copyright, in some cases we have not been successful. We would therefore be grateful for any information that might lead us to make contact with the Aboriginal artist Kurwingie, Peter Kocan and David Beal. This has been a long growing project. Many people have been of help and offered advice but there is one person in particular whom we would like to thank and that is Glenda Pattenden. Kunapipi is published with assistance from the European branch of the Association for Commonwealth Literature and Language Studies. Kunapipi refers to the Australian Aboriginal Myth of the Rainbow Serpent which is the symbol both of creativity and regeneration. The journal's emblem is to be found on an Aboriginal shield from the Roper River area of the Northern Territory in Australia. A;yeuo_qeu ou sel{ uew fiu.u(p V 'Themistodes', 28 july 1916_ at wharf; some in front row holding spurs in hand Bruce Dawe, 'For the Other Fallen' Kurwingie, 'Aboriginal Anzac' Helen Gilbert, 'GI Joe Versus Digger Dave: Contemporary Australian Drama and the Vietnam War' Richard Tipping, 'VIETGRAM: 1968' Anna Rutherford, 'Mars versus Venus: The Dialectics of Power in Shirley Hazzard's The Transit of Venus' Anzac & Why I Write: Author's Statements Les A. Murray 'The Ballad of the Barbed Wire Ocean' David Malouf GeoffPage 'Christ at Gallipoli' Roger McDonald fohn Romeril Philip Salam Louis Nowra Notes on Contributors Index 328 330 331 332 333 334 335 339 342 345 349 293 307 309 List o f Illustrations 'Themistocles', 28 July 1916, at wharf, some in front row holding spurs in hand, Australian War Memorial (PB 1030) vi Norman Lindsay, 'A Bonzer Crop', Bulletin, 22 February 1917 11 Cover of The Anzac Book 1916 28 Yackandandah School and Soldiers' Memorial Hall 40 ).S. Watkins, 'Women of Queensland' (99 x 72), Australian War Memorial (V5632) 55 Harry J. Weston, 'Would you stand by while a bushfire raged?' (75 x 51), Australian War Memorial (V148) 56 D. H . Souter, 'It is nice in the surf (76 x 50), Australian War Memorial (V141) 57 Unknown, ' Don't falter go and meet the Hun menace' (74 x 50), Australian War Memorial (V816) 58 World War I veteran on 50th anniversary of Anzac day, 1965 63 George Lambert, ' Captain Hugo ThrosseU, VC.', from Ric Throssell, For Valour (Sydney: Currency, 1976). Sketch in possession of the Australian War Memorial 64 Albert Tucker, 'Psycho, Heidelberg Military Hospital', 1942 (charcoal and coloured pastel 25 x17.9), Australian War Memorial (28305) 82 Norman Lindsay, 'Nothing sacred to him', BuUetin, 4 July 1918 85 C. Marquet, 'Fat', Australian Worker, February 1916 86 D. H . Souter, 'Terrible war - isn't it?', BuUetin, 1915 88 D .H. Souter, 'Behold! I stand at the door and knock', The Sydney Stock and Station journa£ 1918 89 C. Marquet, ' The Blood Vote', Australian Worker, 12 October 1916 90 C. Marquet, 'Hastening to the Front', Australian Worker, 6 August 1914 92 C. Marquet, 'Hats off! The 5% Patriot', Australian Worker, 10 February 1916 94 C. Marquet, 'Club that Bug Early', Australian Worker, 13 January 1916 96 C. Marquet, Til have you', Australian Worker, 13 December 1917 99 Wtll Dyson, 'Stepping stones to higher things', (brush, ink, charcoal, pencil htghltghted Wtth while 47.5 >. 33.5), Australian War Memorial (2265) 100 Will Dyson, 'The Wine of Victory' , from Ross McMullin, Will Dyson (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1984), p. 149. Sketch m possession of the Australian War Memorial 102 Will Dyson, 'Coming out on the Somme', Australia at War, p. 30a 103 Will Dyson, 'Dedication: fo the Men of the A.l.F.', Australia at War 104 Will Dyson, ' A V01ce From Anzac, "Funny thing Bill I keep thinking I hear men marchmg!"' Herald (Melbourne) 25 April 1927 107 Will Dyson, 'Labour Battalion Man', Australia at War, p. 32a 108 Will Dyson, ' Reportmg at the Battery', Australia at War, p. 16a 111 Will, Dyson, 'The Wild Coloma! Boy: Sooner than dwell in slavery bowed down by iron chains', Australian War Memorial, (2305) 112 Will Dyson, 'Gathering Fuel, Delville Wood', Australian War Memo rial, (2281) 115 'Ou r l'amous Boys', Australian War Memorial (Postcards 211/5) 116 ' I he Last Tram for Camp', Australian War Memo rial (830 798) 130 'A Coo-ee', Australian War Memorial (ON 830456) 130 'Ge t o ut! Etla barra!', Australian War Memorial (Postcards 2/J/9) 133 'Australia Day', Australian War Memorial (Postcard 2/1/8) 133 'To my Dear One .. ', Australian War Memorial (ON 1142) 136 'Red C ross Australia Day', Australtan War Memortal (Postcards 2/1/8) 137 'Aus traleo', Austrahan War Memonal (Postcards 2/1/8) 140 'The C,umnut Corps', Australian War Memorial (ON 82-884) 140 'What We Have We Hold', Australian War Memorial (Postcards 2/1/8) 141 'Bravo Anzacs', Australian War Memorial (3DRL 6223) 144 'Off to the War', Australian War Memorial (ON 82-884) 145 'The Girls I left behmd me', Australian War Memonal (ON 82-884) 148 ' Mrs Kangaroo', Australian War Memorial (ON 82-884) 150 'Old Aunts Kookaburra', Australian War Memorial (ON 82-884) 150 'Remembrance', Australian War Memorial (Postcards 2/1/8) 153 War Memorial, Harde n-Murrumburrah, NSW 156 War Memorial, Newcastle, NSW 158 Breeza, New South Wales. Population 90 160 West Wallsend Unveiling, 28 january 1922 162 War Memorial, Culcat.m, NSW. 'Our Soldiers Memorial' 162 Ted Scarfield, 'The Archibald Memorial', BuUetin, 9 March 1932, Nabonal Library of Australia 164 Carl August Bahm.en 166 Private John Rutherfo rd 167 Norman Lmdsay, ' Will you fig ht now o r wait fo r th1s?' (poster 50 x 38}, Australian War Memonal (V5474) 182 Weaver Hawkins, 'Two mmutes sile nce', 1953 (oil o n cotton duck 126 x 308.5), Austrahan War Memorial (40886) 191 Roslyn !:vans, 'All the fin e young men : In the middle of 1990 as Saddam and Bush rattled their sabres', 1992 (pencil, photoscreenprint, wash, collage 46.6 x 42.5), Australian War Memo rial (29767.06) 191 George Coates, 'Arrival of first Australian wounded from Gallipoli at Wandsworth llospttal, London', 1920 (oil on canvas 123 x 101.5), Australian War Me morial (1 5334) 192 Sybil Cratg, 'No. 1 Projectile Shop, Maribyrnong', 1945 (oil on hardboard 45.3 x 39.7), Australian War Memorial (22141) 193 Nora Ileysen, 'Separating blood', 1944 (charcoal, coloured crayons 60.6 x 47.6), Australian War Memorial (22675) 194 l~oy Hodgkinson, 'Captain Constance Box', 1944 (crayon, coloured washes 30 x 46.8}, Australian War Memorial (21722) 195 Lvndon Dad~well, ' Munition workers', 1942 (bronze 71.8 ll. 30.6 x 30.8), Australian War Memonal (40926) 196 George G1ttocs, 'Corporal julie Baranowski, M1litary Police, Searchmg Somali women', 1993 (pencil), Australian War Memorial (90105) 197 Will Dvson, 'Compensation (Back at the wagon lines)' , 1918 (11thograph S2.2 x 78), Australian War Memonal (2274) 197 Frances Lymburncr, '[Sold1er with g1rlfnendj', 1942-44 (pen and brush and ink 25 9 x 20.3jirregular]), Australian War Mcmonal, purchased in 1985 (28731) 198 Roy I lodgkinson, 'One Sunday afternoon m fownsville', 1942 (brown crayons with watercolour and pencil34.1 x 47.2), Australian War Memorial (36282) 199 Will Dyson, 'I he other virgm of Albert', 1918 (pencil, watercolour 56.4 x 48.1), Australian War Memorial (16155) 200 'Archy', Galhpoh; Associated R & R Films 216 ' Frank', Galhpoh, AssoCJaled R &R hlms 217 Canberra V1ews 19'i0-69, Anzac Parade, Canberra, National f ibrary ofAustralia 228 Stllb from An.<"acS'. Photo: C.reg Noakes. Producers <.,coH 13urrowcs and john D1xon 214 S1dney Nolan, (Anzac soldier w1th nfle), (oil, crayon and acrvhc on card) 260 Advertisement- Denyer Brothers, m NSW An.?ac Memonal, 2'> Apnl 1916 272 Paul Chubb (Sergeant Collms), Iony Blackett (Captam I lenry), Warren Coleman (Private lliggs), Dinah Shearing (Lillian Dawson), Louis Nowra, iMide the lslan~ 13 August 1980, N1mrod I heatre, Sydney D1rected by Nell Armfield. Photo: Peter llolderness 275 Dinah Shearing (Lillian Dawson), Tony Blackett (Captain llenry), Judy Davis (Susan Dawson), 1bid. 275 B11l Conn (Private M11ler), ib1d 282 'Abongmal Ant:ac', Kurwing1c '88 291 'August Mobihsahon to l::.nd the War in V1etnam' (poster, 51 x 31.8), Australian War Memonal (V1099) 292 Artist unknown, 'Two Years Gaol' (poster, 50 x 38), Australian War Memorial (V3051) 297 Rob George, 'Sandy Lee Live at NUl Oat', The Stage Company Production, Adelaide 1981. Photo: David Simmonds 298 Barry Lowe, 'Tokyo Rose', La Boite Production, Brisbane 1989 304 Barbara Hanrahan, 'Poppy Day', 1982 (colour screenprint 23.76 x 57) 308 Will Dyson, ' Winnie's Need', Daily llerald, 14 May 1919 311 Percy Leason, 'Nothing's too Good for the Soldier', /Julie/in, 1920 314 Advertisement - Gowmg Bros., Australian Worker, 1 October 1914 323 '"Runci" Officer with two stnpes holdmg wallaby, 20 June 1916', Australian War Memorial (P.B.946) 324 'S1ster's wedding. Sister and native bear, Anzac Provost Corps' (Abbassin) Ca1ro, Australian War Memonal (J 1714) 324 Anzacs at the graves of the fallen, on the Western l· ro nt, Australian War Memorial (I .166) 348 FOREWORD Since 1885, when, at England's beck and call, New South Wales sent troops to the Sudan, hardly a decade has passed when Australian troops have not been fighting on foreign shores in someone else's war. Ironically, although we've assiduously tned to deny, forget, or write out our internal wars, we've always been very publicly involved in someone else's conflicts. Australian men have seemed good at war. As early as 1883, The Age was promoting them as 'splendid material for an army' and offering them up and ushering them off to fight for England in the Sudan. It is not an exaggeration to say, however, that it is Australia's involvement in the great European War of 1914-18 which continues to generate the most interest, despite Paul Keating's recent attempts to engineer a re-orientation in time and place. And while Australia's participation in any subsequent wars- be it in Spain in the thirties, in Europe, the Middle East or the Pacific during the Second World War, in Korea, Vietnam or even the recent conflict in the Gulf - gave rise in each case to its own small literature, the First World War is that crucial point to which so often we return when we think of Australians at war. As Richard Nile's comprehensive bibliography attests, the literature which now surrounds it is enormous. Whether the explorations of this involvement are used to glorify war or express its trauma, Australian commentators have been unable to let it go. Perhaps it was our 'great' war because our casualties were the highest of the Allied forces relative to our population; hardly a household escaped without the loss or maiming of a son or husband. Perhaps it is because the war saw the coalescence of bush and warrior legends into the ANZAC myth which, at a time when Australia was rapidly urbanizing, enabled the continuation and romanticization of the bush myth and its central tenet, mateship. Perhaps it is because, coming hard on the heels of Federation, it became inextricably linked to the birth of a nation. Or, more ironically and subliminally, it is central to identity questions in Australia since, in foregrounding the Gallipoli Campaign, as is the case with so many of our significant cultural mdicators, Australians celebrate a defeat. While rangmg m time from Michael Ackland's essay on 'war and colonial 1dentity' in Australia, which centres the poetry of Charles Harpur, Henry Kendall and Adam Lindsay Gordon, and Shirley Walker's exploration of the many permutations of the 'Breaker' Morant story, to Helen Gilbert's paper on two plays which dramatize the dynamics of the power relations which are at work in 'the story of Vietnam', and with essays by Gareth Griffiths, Veronica Kelly, Kevin Green and Anna Rutherford on the place of war in some contemporary writing and plays, WAR: Australia's Creative Response nevertheless teases out the enduring meaning, and we hope adds to that meaning, for Australians of what Paul Fussell calls that 'great war in modern memory'. David Kent speculates on Charles Bean's contribution to the formation of the Anzac Legend in his production of the Anzac Book; Tom Millar outlines the conscription issue and John McQuilton, with the aid of some evocative documents from Alick Keat's war, explores what, in reality, recruitment and conscription meant for the small north-eastern Victorian community of Yackandandah. For many of the young men who enlisted, the war presented them with their first overseas trip. Richard White takes this 'touring' as his theme, exploring the experience of war through the lens of travel, to which James Wieland's, "'What do you think of this Card?", provides a kind of visual commentary and addendum, whilst Ken Inglis and Jan Brazier's essay on war memorials in the Australian landscape speaks of commemoration and public consolation, and the consequences, for many, who went on this tour of duty. There is the sense, of course, that memorials are a kind of visualization of one of the meanings of war but more direct interrogations of images of war are transported into the book through Anna Gray's expansive essay on images, m a number of artists, of Australian women at war; Wieland's study of Will Dyson's war drawings, collected in Australia at War, Vane Lindcsay's survey of the leading Australian war cartoonists of the First World War; and his supplementary essay, written in collaboration with John McLaren, on the work of the socialist cartoonist, Claude Marquet. More recently, mass audiences have had access to moving images of war through television and screen interpretations of Australia's war stories, and Livio and Pat Dobrez's essay on Gallipoh Maurie Scott's survey of war images in Australian screen drama, and Graeme Turner's reading of the tele-drama Anzacs explore these media and their narratives. In verse and fiction, with the exception of Leon Gellert's Songs of a Campaign, and a couple of poems by Harley Matthews, it was not until the thirties that Australia produced significant war wntmg and, indeed, the major flowering of both genre's treatment of war did not come until much later, in the work of such writers as Les A. Murray, Geoff Page, David Malouf and Roger McDonald. Bruce Clunies Ross's penetrating essay of the 'silences' in Australian representations of war - both the omissions from literary histories of much of this early writing, and the silence of many veterans about their experiences - introduces this aspect of the book, and essays by Laurie Hergenhan, on the work of Murray and Malouf, and Amanda Nettelbeck, on Malouf's Fly Away Peter, bring the studies up to the present. Explorations of other contemporary works, Kevin Green's reading of David Ireland's Burn and Anna Rutherford's essay on Shirley Hazzard's Transit of Venus, round the book out and take the study of war into a more pervasive concern with violence in society, the horror and pity of war, and the human cost of those who wield their power through control of money and munitions. A number of nch poems by Judith Rodriguez, Geoff Page, Les A. Murray, Philip Salem, Peter Kocan, Bruce Dawe, Kurwingie, and Richard Tipping which play variations on the book's themes are salted throughout, while the collection closes with reflections by David Malouf, Roger McDonald, Les A. Murray, Louis Nowra, Geoff Page, John Romeril and Philip Salom, on why they have taken war as a subject of their writing, and, earlier in the text, Ric Throssell shares memories of his father, Hugo Throssell, V.C. Anna Rutherford James Wieland Wollongong, 1996 War and Colonialldenti~v: The Poetic Response ----~---------------------------MICHAEL ACKLAND War a n d Colonial Identity: The Poetic R e s p o n s e For a country spared the ravages of major wars, at least until the twentieth century, Australian creative works preceding federation exhibit a striking concern with martial prowess and the reality or possibility of physical conflict. 131oody encounters with blacks, convicts and bush-rangers frequently provide novelists with dramatic climaxes. Images of the settler literally battling natural d1sasters such as floods and fires. or of the man on horseback performing heroic deeds are iterated in the verse, while such scenes dominate the sprawling histoncal canvases of the period. Moreover, the spectre of armed struggle appears repeatedly in the political literature of the colonies, either as an Old World horror to be avoided or as a sacrifice willingly accepted for a free and democratic society. Henry Lawson for instance, at the turn of the century, evoked the famous patriot-image of blood staining the wattle, much as forty years before similar concepts occurred in the verse of currency lads like Charles Harpur who, in the space of a single poem, could oscillate violently between admonitions to ' spare to use the murderous gun, - /Nor meddle with the sword' and the ringmg call of 'on, ye Red Republicans, rro Freedom or to Death' .1 Seen in context, this stress on warfare and its varied literary manifestations are grounded in discernible traditions and local aspirations. In what follows, I wish to explore the origi ns of these martial concerns, to outline bnefly the received patterns of creative response to war available in the colonies and, finally, to illustrate in the works of Charles Harpur their specific adaptation to evolving conditions in the New World. The reasons for the prevalence of martial imagery are at once cultural and political. War, from antiqUity on, has appeared in Western literature and art as an ultimate determinant of the destiny of individual and country. The epic, grounded on Homeric and Virgilian precedent, confirmed warrior-spirit and proven generalship as signs of he roic election. Achilles and Hector, Odysseus and Aeneas, Orlando and Roland, are not simply great warriors, but figures upon whose deeds rest the ultimate weal or woe of a given kingdom. Though at times flawed or subject to lapses of judgement or emotion, they are effectively Michael Ackland the standard-bearers of a people. Similarly, the corresponding pre­ eminence enJoyed for centuries by historical painting in the visual arts rested in no small measure on a preoccupation with patnotJC actions. Its tmposing studies, whether drawn from the past as in Jacques-Louis David's 'The Oath of the Horatii', or based on contemporary deeds like Wolfe's storming of Quebec, could project a sense of national identity and heroic sacrifice which transcended political divisions and kindled patriotic ardour, as in David's canvas. There the orchestration of spare, history-charged forms focuses on the soldier-arms of Rome's saviours, which rise to an apex crowned by the swords of war: an tmage of classical decorum but bloody co nsequence which found favour in th e salons of the anCJen regime, as well as m the coteries of the Revolution .~ In l:.ngland, no le'is than 1n France, the closing decades of the eighteenth century witnessed a resurgence of interest in the power of art to shape a country's temper and, in a war-time atmosphere, to provide the icons for renewed national fervour. 3 Related thoughts, in turn, would inspire antipodean monuments to commanding figures and explorers, as in the case of Burke and Wills, who were raised in stone and verse into embkms of the heroic sacrifice demanded by an untamed land . The young Australian colonies inherited these cultural traditions, together with the national hostilities and ideologtcal battles of the Old World. Most obviously, the first settlement at Botany Bay, and even the development of later penal outposts such as Norfolk Island, were in part a result of the naval confrontation between l:.ngland and France, first m the Great War for l:.mpire and ensuing American War of Independence, and then during the Napoleonic period . The lost expedition of La Perouse, sponsored by Louis XVI, also provided subsequent French regimes with a plausible pretext for mounting voyages to terra australis incognita, though military motives were not absent from official thinking. Thus, while the Baudin expedition (18004) was primarily concerned with discoveries m the fields of sCience and natural history, it received a more general brief of reconnaissance on the newly implanted l:.nghsh settlements in New South Wales and Van Dieman's Land from the then ftrst Consul, Napoleon Bonaparte. Resulting colonial perceptions of possible French incursiOns, no matter how ill-founded, and of the need for Bntish naval power found early expresSIOn 111 David Burn's plays Sydney Delivered and Our First Ueutenant (1845). Simdar contemporary fears are echoed almost twenty years after in Kendall's 'Australian Volunteer Song' that a 'prowling, plundenng stranger pounce upon you whilst you sleep!'. Now, however, the sense of a common coloma! identity is stronger, and with it an emphasis on self-help against aggression which looks forward to the jingoistic, nationalist formulations of the 1890s: ~ar and Coloma/JdentJII !he l'oef}( Nc:,pon~>c Should the cannon's iron rattle sound between these harbour doors Ye (Fathers of an mfant nation) must wage and win the battle, in your JUSt and nght~ous cause 4 Colonization was also dependent on and accompanied by war-like acts, whtch evoked a variety of literary responses. The early governors and explorers were professwnal soldiers, and their charter bore marked resemblance to a military campaign. Theirs was the textbook task of sustaining mvading forces in a hostile environment. And once the logistical problems arising from over-extended lines of communication and supply were overcome, they still had to maintain d iscip line wi thin their own refractory ranks, as well as to subjugate the potentially dangerous convict and indigenous native populations: ideas which form the backdrop to the personal dramas portrayed in Marcus Clarke's For the lerm ol hi.~ Natural Lile and James l ucker's Ralph Rashleigh. Surviving buildings from the penal period support these fictiona l accounts of existence lived on a war-footing. This goes beyond military compounds and prisons to permeate details of private life. The governor's kitchen at Norfolk Island, for instance, is dominated by a walled-in catwalk. This was used by armed sentinels whose task it was to keep in check the convict scullions employed below with knives and hatchets, in a dramatic confrontation between repression and hate. l:.ven conventional symbols of advancing empire, such as public works, often bore the unmistakable marks of these hostilities, like the notonous Bloody Bridge at Norfolk Island.' Similarly, increasing acreage under cultivation was bought at a high cost of native lives. Harpur makes this clear in his poem and accompanying note on 'An Aboriginal Mother's Lament', where he shows his abhorrence of the Myall massacres (pp. 368-70); and the theme of mdigenous losses inspired such notable works as Kendall's 'The Last of His Tribe' and Eliza Hamilton Dunlop's 'The Aboriginal Mother'. In short, as !an Turner reminds us, 'the conquest of the land had been a half century of violence'.~> The colonies then, conceived as a resu lt of conflicts, and raised from infancy by a military establishment, afforded the paradoxical picture of peace rocked in the arms of war: a tension denoted most frequently in -.,ubsequent literature in terms of an opposition between Old World attitudes or failings and New World aspirations. Another major though unremarked influence on Australian martia l depictions m the first half of the nineteenth-century and beyond was English Romantic poetry. Whereas popular colonial verse tended simply to transpose traditional warrior values to a bush setting, more ambitious works u<;ed physical conflict to explore metaphysical and psychological issues in ways which reveal direct links with Romantic precursors. For the latter, armed conflict was generally regarded at best as a problematical undertaking, at worst as self-destructive and 4 --------------------------------------------- M1chacl Ackland essentially reacti onary in its co nseq ue nces. When viewed positive ly, it was associated wtth revolutionary liberati on and a Republican credo. Blake for ms tance, in his poems The French Revolution and America, a Prophecy, presented with apparent approval the unleashed forces of humanity tearing down the Bastille, emancipating the American colonies, and sending ruin ous tre mors through th e British parliament, while Coleridge and Wordsworth could celebrate th e imme nse promise evoked by revolutionary France. This early surge of optimism, however, was largely e ither annulled or re-channe lled in the course of the 1790s. With th e outbreak of the Terror, the carnage caused by the armies o f the Directory, and Napoleon's re-establishment of the monarchy, hopes of human advancement seem ed das hed , and war assumed terrifying and protracted forms: The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled fhe iron ha nd cru shd IsKI the I vran t's head And became a I vrant 111 h1s ~lead Thts cumulative thwarting of revolutionary goals in the political sphere, it is agreed, contributed to a changing conception of literature .x Art in general came to be viewed as a potential sa nctuary for true human values and as a vehicle for spiritual rege neration . Wordsworth ex tols these merits in his celebrated Preface to Lyrical Ballads, while the links between war-time experie nce and a new aesthe tic emerge clearly in Blake's succi nct formulation: ' Art Degraded, Imagination Denied, War Governed the Nations' (p . 471). These programmatic statements a t the turn of the century are complemente d by an internaliza tion of the site of heroic deed s in the epic, and by a changing moral emphasis. Blake is representative in disavowing his early advocacy of unrestrained energy in favour of an equally radical but a ntithetical doctrine of self­ annihilation. Similarly, Word sworth concentrates attention on the growth and liberating pote ntial of th e mind, and She lley makes his standard-bearer of humanity a regenera ted titan who, eschewing violence and reve nge, red eem s the natural and social worlds through a n individual s piritual triumph . In general, traditional portrayals of warring armies and battle landscapes are suppla nted by the dramatic clash of inner forces or antagonists. Personal self-conquest, rather than blood y victory, is seen increasingly as the key to social renovation, in a paradigmatic displaceme nt of Romantic idealism from the general to the particular which would re-emerge on the great austral continen t. With fe w exception s, colonial literary presenta tions of martial activities have clear English antecedents. The scenes of battle and the actual p ersonae may vary, but the values th ey convey remain largely constant. The landscape of war and romance, with its atte ndant frays and noble virtues, could be readily tra nsplanted to the wild and War and Colonial identity: The Poetic Response ----~--------------untamed surroundings of the antipodes, as Henry Kingsley early demonstrated in The Recollections of Ceoffry Ham!yn (1859). His brave, self-reliant settlers form a natural warrior caste, while their young sc1on, Sam Buckley, has all the accoutrements of the epic hero: youth, good looks, courage and mastery of arms. The latter qualities are affirmed in the heat of battle against worthy outlaw protagonists, who meet their destined end in the clash of horses and steel. Similarly, the celebrations of empire by Tennyson and the mid-Victorians found a host of faithful imitators, and the writings of the Romantic afforded an ongoing and influential resource. 9 Charles llarpur, for instance, clearly assumes reader-familiarity with their works when he remarks that 'the animal force and feeling of Byron, with the mental sensuousness of Keats, the moral depth of Wordsworth, and the gorgeous ideality of Shelley in equal proportions and intimately blended in the constitution of one man, would create him, perhaps, a perfect Poet' (A89). 10 Moreover, the same note concludes with the wry question of whether 'a perfect Poet were a possible character' , thereby illustrating that balance of respectful and independent judgement which typifies the more noteworthy New World treatments in verse of mherited war motifs. Henry Kendall and Adam Lindsay Gordon provide contrasting examples of how the heritage of martial depiction could be assimilated to colonial concerns. Faced with crushing personal circumstances in the late 1860s, Kendall produced a series of brilliant adaptations of biblical and classical material which obliquely reflected his own growing sense of impasse. 11 As in the mature works of the l:.nglish Romantic poets, the Australian is less interested in warfare as an end in itself than as a way of illuminating problematic existential issues. Works such as 'The Voyage of Telegonus' , 'Ogyges' and 'King Saul at Gilboa' focus on actual or potential leaders of nations, who trust in physical deeds only to miscarry. Telegonus unwittingly kills the very object of his guest. The once powerful, hunter-king Ogyges is a prey to impotent deterioration, and Saul, defying prophetic warnings, seals his fate by retaining at Amalek booty won by his sword. Collectively, they afford an exemplary gallery of bold but doomed warrior figures whose heroic efforts demonstrate the futility of human attempts to change individual destiny .12 Gordon, through his equestrian orientation, adapted war motifs more specifically to Australian conditions. In his poetry, ability to ride the wildest animals over demanding terrain becomes an implied surrogate for martial exploits, and the stockman in extremis prov1des the type of a conquering vanguard, whose concerted endeavours have rendered the land tractable to European needs. Often his emphasis is placed simply on heroic physical actions, though armed bravery, in whatever period, can provide an indice of mankind ' s invincible spirit. Achilles, with his daylight waning, dilates on life as ' this long bloodAnzac and why I write As a rider to all this I have visited ANZAC Cove. I have stood on those cliffs looking down to the sea. rt was a first order military idiocy not to retreat the moment it was discovered those cliffs were defended . Not for nothing is there a category of beast called war criminal. On that trip an American who hadn't left the bus asked a compatriot who had: 'What's down there? 'Not much', came the reply, 'just a place where the Australians fought the New Zealanders.' And when, on another occasion, 'good Australians' like Ian Sinclair insisted that Australia should do all it could to make the Kiwis toe the American line, who knows? Why write about war? I have often rehearsed the arguments pros and cons. It is the case for instance that much theoretically anti-war literature ends up in practice glorifying war, or at least ennobling those who prosecute it. Much as I admire Williamson I think that's what he and Weir ended up doing with Gallipoli, despite their no doubt laudable intentions. There's an awful 'we know not what we do' about writing. Patient self-analysis does thrust some light into the murk. It remains, however, the case that what we set out to do is not always what we achieve. For most of us the real drug is the setting out, the process, the journey. The end result we walk away from. The finished product is someone else's drug. The audience's. It becomes part of their process. I'm something of a 'then' playwright. I spend a lot of time writing 'sort of' histories. In my blacker, less self-regarding moments I suspect I do the far less harder thing. By bemg a 'then' playwright one is excused from scribing 'the now'. As with diving, so with writing, there are degrees of difficulty. The present, especially the autobiographical now, has always been intensely problematic for me. It may well be an immature psychological condition, a fear of finding out who I really am, what I'm really like. The past is dead, finished, can be approached without too much danger, and research can cover a multitude of sins (what you don't know, what you can't feel). The defence, the rationale is laudable enough. The best of my work examines not simply the past but how the past impacts on the present. It uses a 'then' to put our 'now' into a politically useful perspective. Since ours is a society much given to a kind of cultural amnesia my project in its small way has the utility of an antidote. The events of 1975'1 are a case in point. As a people we had been there, done that, and should have known better. But it wasn't the stuff of living memory. To expand living memory is, I suppose, the project. Not to mention make a buck and have people love you . '1975' is a reference to the dism1ssal of the Whitlam Labor Government by the Governor-General, Sir John Kerr, a dism1ssal which took place on 11 November. ANZAC and why 1 write The Floating World began in a library, took shape on a ship, got finished (the writing) on the floor of the Pram Factory. It started in 1970. In the beginning it was an idiot play. I worked as a librarian at Monash University to support my family while I continued my studies part-time. I'd taken to reading about the Noh and Kabuki theatres. And was by then well versed in haiku. The Japanese struck me as a very civilized bunch. I toyed with the idea of depicting the war in New Guinea as a cultural clash: the haiku versus the bush ballad - them descending on Lae with the highly stylised and codified body language of the Noh - us dying like footballers. If the New Guineans - whose soil it was - were to appear no doubt it would have been as a chorus of Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels - or else a bunch of puppets designed by Jude Kuring, Tony Taylor or Alan Robertson. Like I say, an idiot play. I make no claim to being a deep thinker even now but in 1970 I was a moron. The fact is a lot of the world's literature is produced by morons so I've never let it worry me. A germ or two stuck. Vietnam was still raging. Australia was fighting its third war in Asia, against Asians. And New Guinea? My father had fought in New Guinea. There were one or two (he was not a forthcoming man) stories he let slip which I might be able to use. In the end I suppose my father is a kind of key to the piece. Our relationship I'd always found problematic. A strange, moody, deeply insecure man, neither good at giving, nor receiving, love to or from his children. Our last words, two years earlier, had been: 'What'll you do when they come here?' 'What', I replied, 'they'll be crawling through the hydrangea, will they?' The subject was the Viet Cong. Absurd (the family is seldom the seat of logic). And it hurt and niggled as family bust ups do. I tried, in my young adult fashion, to make sense of him. I couldn't be wrong! The depression that broke so many of his generation, the war where he'd missed death by a whisker, the 50s with aU the rubbish that animal Menzies handed out, the grind of keeping a family on the road in a job that was none too secure. One more insane-makingly traumatic twentieth century Western individual. Nothing special there. A Willy Loman. But my own. Trauma, not war, is the subject of The Floating World: trauma occasioned by war. It was my contention then - and is still - that to be alive in the twentieth century is to be traumatised. Ours is -I say it in the play- a century of disasters. 2 A century (now less than four years from being over) of wars (with civil populations their target), revolutions, holocaust, genocide, socio-economic upheaval, on a scale hitherto undreamt of, mass dislocation. Its literature is the literature of There is only one decade in this century when we have not sent our troops to fight on foreign soil. Anzac and why 1 write the refugee, the exile: your Brechts, your Nabokovs, joyces, Nerudas, Cellines; the literature of transmigratory souls, homeless, rootless: your Greenes, your Naipauls, your Rhys's. Whether we write or not - and if we can perhaps we are among the lucky ones - there is scarcely a citizen on the globe today who has not borne witness at some time, in some way to this inferno and as like as not been deeply scarred by that experience. It is a century you can't get out of the road of. Flee to the forest but the acid rain will find you. There is no out. just pain. Was ever so much literature written in gaol? Was ever so much gaol, and so much torture, meted out to so many? Les Harding is not my father. He is my Everyman. He saw his tiny bit of hell, tried to keep the show on the road, but couldn't. I suppose, when you write, having an Everyman eases the pain of having a father such as mine in time like ours. My old man died (its symptomatic of what I'm arguing here) another statistic in one more epidemic: that of stress related heart attacks amongst the middle-aged. May the earth rest his bones dead- it didn't rest them living. For the record if the play's genesis had something to do with me pondering over where my father was at- and how come- the rest had a great deal to do with a boat trip I took from Singapore to Perth . There I observed the rituals and rhythms of shipboard life, getting them, as it were, down. It was also on board that ship that a fellow passenger let me in on the basic storyline. A neighbour of hers, an ex-POW, had taken a Cherry Blossom cruise but the closer the cruise ship got to Japan the more his memories of Changi and the Burma railroad began to haunt him. In short, I lucked onto the story. The rest was research, with bits taken from Russell Braddon, Ray Parkinson and others, quotes if you like, from the collective memory. For simplicity's sake the other imperatives at work, (and to nail the question: why did I choose to write about the war) were: I was a p laywright. I was part of a performance ensemble dedicated to producing plays for, by and about Australians. The tale of an all but unknown soldier, a POW, who some years after the war travels to Japan with untoward consequences for himself, his wife and those he encounters seemed fair game. When I said earlier the writing was finished on the floor of the Pram Factory it was. The body of it was there but in rehearsal it underwent some changes. Some of these were political. It was not, nor is it now, from a japanese viewpoint, an even­ handed work. No single play can say everything there is to be said about anything and, compendious though it may seem to some, The Floating World is no exception to that rule. Nevertheless we tried to blunt, better to say widen, the play's terms of reference lest it be seen solely and wholly as an anti-japanese diatribe. Wilfred Last, who played McLeod, tabled material about American behaviour towards the Japanese in the last days of the Pacific War, in particular the tactic of overkill, the ceaseless bombardment of the already cut off Japanese troops so the myth that they'd never surrender could not be put to the test, they were dead before they were asked, the artillery had made sure of that. Racism is not the prerogative of the Japanese. Indeed I know now (I didn't then) that western racism did much during the thirties to make Japan's entry into the war almost inevitable. Had the western powers been more sympathetic to Japan's plight in the circumstances of the trade war that obtained during the depression there may never have been a Changi. Or a Hiroshima. Or a Les Harding. PHILIP SALOM For many of my childhood years ANZAC Day and the ANZACs of Gallipoli and World War II seemed intertwined. Consciously, I knew where they separated or touched; I knew my father had fought in New Guinea, but also sometimes marched on ANZAC Day, presenting me with images of the men in suits, the effects of age, memory and emotion on their faces and the strange, anachronistic rows of medals glinting sharply on their chests. All this beside the build-up, the stories about Gallipoli. If I chose to join those two symbolically, the choice, of course, had been made long before I arrived at it. The biggest actual blur was that Gallipoli seemed to be the only place Australians had fought in during World War I. In a sense, then, Gallipoli was WWI. It was only years later that I discovered how many Australians had fought in France. That seemed a different war, as if because that was not Australia's war, whereas Gallipoli was. If one side of the ritual myth or passing down of Gallipoli created for me (and many others, I know) the contradictory image of WWII returnees marching on ANZAC Day, the other side was oral, visual, literary. As school children we heard many stories, the most famous one being about Simpson and his donkey. This was not the classical or the romanticized hero at all. It was another contradiction: he was an individual, a loner, an eccentric surely, a simpleton perhaps, a saint but whatever he was he was foreground, war was background. It was very interesting; it even sounded Biblical. The other stories had to do with the slaughter on the beach (but nothing exact about why), the lack of progress on the cliffs, the sun, the periscopic sights and the clever innovations used to keep the rifles firing during the successful evacuation at night. Australian inventiveness was, almost perversely, more stressed than was the war. At least it was a triumph. Gallipoli also had a very colonial, Kiplingesque feel for me, whether due to a geographical or romantic (and typically ethnically confused) overlap with Kipling's stories, I couldn't say. And Gallipoli was always 340 Anzac and why I write -------------------------------------------about Australian men, their stoicism, cleverness and the old cliched thing of mateship. And, despite the deaths, a kmd of grand casualness. As I grew older the heroic element became more complex. Simpson's actions had always been heroic but never in the rhetorical, glorious manner. My father became another kind of figure: a liaison officer during the Second World War, tramping along through the jungle and often shot at. He too seemed to me a different sort of hero. A modest and self-effacing man. This was not the individual breaking free and transcending the general ranks in brilliant and heroic acts (often dying as a result). Both my versions of the hero were men shot at rather than shooting. A great difference from the contemporary Rambo grotesquerie but somehow in keeping with the more idealized version of what an Australian was meant to be, and with the perhaps censored version of Australians as soldiers who were not great killers. I remember being shocked to hear of the various gratuitous tortures some Australians had performed on Japanese prisoners of war. Australians weren't like this, they were good guys ... Still, enough of the profile of the hero was there - male, brave, committed to the larger cause. And possibly also the lack of questioning, or nothing made obv10us. Perhaps that passive role was one expression of a dissent. The ordinariness made it somehow especially Australian, for when I was a child, in a country town of the 50s and early 60s it was always stressed that one should be ordinary and not depart from or push anything too far from the normal. If I was moved by the hero, and at a more deeply mythological level, then so too was I moved by death . Uncertain of any Christian reassurances about life after death, death in itself was unjust, tragic, and death through war, of large numbers of ordinary people, struck both at my sense of injustice and of heroism . A potent mix. A huge sadness that shifts from elevation into anger, further emphasized by the presence of the survivors, say at ANZAC Day. The living were the flip­ side, having achieved heroic survival as against heroic death - symbols of the dead and the rhetorical and emotional counterparts then, but also the coating for what amounted to the more brutal fact of death at war to serve Imperial and exploitative masters. The Turks had the added rhetoric, of course, of being religious heroes as well. I ramble on about this because it was rather rambling to me as a child, given graphic detail and imagery by a variety of stories and sensory impressions. Also because I now see in the filmed and televised popularised versions of Gallipoli this pushing of the great idealized 'Aussie' virtues of mateship and heroism and nationalism. I am very suspicious of such simplistic sentiment, just as I am very suspicious of all the great attempts made to try to find a single moment in our history that made us a nation, Gallipoli being that moment. It is not only simplistic it is again manipulative. Perhaps it is perceived that, ANLIIC and why I wnte like a younger friend or younger sibling, Australia will remain younger. This exacerbates the desired need to find an identity with strongly universal resonance and yet distinctly Australian character (hopelessly confined and that in itself being perhaps a condemning giveaway). Writing about Galhpoli, especially in Sky Poems where all rational laws could be suspended If desired, gave me one go at presenting not the truth - I have no pretensions to being able to do that - but some personally perceived ironies and unjustices and some historic resonances. I wanted to cut into the mythology a little. I wanted to do this to right, re-write the myths enough to allow a lessening of the taboos which kept so many of the soldier's mouths shut. To do this tenderly, if hopelessly, in the attempted resurrection of a soldier. An irony when considering the Turks and a further irony as this soldier proceeds to wake full of confusion and anger and disorientation - with reactions that include knowledge of the post-war era he might have lived through as a member of the status quo where he would be returned to ordinariness, or less. He wakes to the possibility of fighting for something that truly is worth fighting for - his own rights. Except he remains mechanical, trapped in the metaphors of war. As in many of the Sky Poems the surreal or fantastic beginnings go awry, are deliberately undercut by more stark conclusions. Out of such tension I hoped to create a particular complex of style and emotion and social comment. Despite its cliche value, because of it, and because of my rather sceptical views on the manipulative rhetoric of nationalism, Gallipoli was a logical inclusion in the Sky. I also identify emotionally with those who suffered without fighting anyone, those who lost others through war. Specifically lovers and parents. This parental and female element is rather obviously absent in the overall imagery of Australia's coming-of-age. And if a nation chooses an act of war for such distinction and such a plainly ambiguous one, giving off clear signs of exploitation, aggression, and self­ destruction, what does this create symbolically- and in particular - for our future? Does it also indicate an anxiety about the great contemporary changes as the nation becomes more multi-cultural, more questioned by its intellectuals, by feminism, etc? If Australian soldiers provided succeeding generations with the necessary male blood, more than enough it appears, perhaps the myth, the symbolic beginning found ed there, also serves a strange duty to the national conscience. The matter is just so complex. Despite all I have written above, 1 can still be profoundly moved by the tones of a bugle (now usually a trumpet) blowing the Last Post and by the sight of the old men standing in rows. Such emotion, such shared emotion, is inevitably simplistic and yet remains one way of touching, being touched by, the ageless history of human folly, tragedy and perseverance (See p . 163). LOUIS NOWRA Although ANZAC was a word with which I was familiar when I was young, I had no precise idea of its mearung. J vaguely knew of ANZAC Day but that was about all. I say 'vaguely' because I had no relatives who marched and because they didn't, it seemed an esoteric ceremony of which, because I was an outsider, I knew very little. It is interesting that I use the word ceremony because in my puberty ANZAC was synonymous with the ANZAC Day march and to me it seemed as if the former soldiers were reconfirming something sacred just as I confirmed my Irish heritage by marching in the (to me then) more important St Patrick's Day March. I associated Australians at war with Remembrance Day (11 November) because, like all school children, I was brought into the ritual. The ingredients of this ceremony always seemed the same; there was the headmaster standing at the crackling microphone, his inconsequential words dying away before reaching us, there were the aggressive flies jumping from face to face as we began to sweat in the hot spring morning and when we placed our hands over our hearts, while the Last Post sounded, there was nearly always a giggling boy or girl unable to stand the tension of one minute's silence. Even when young the ceremony had an extraordinary poignancy and the Last Post would evoke in my mind powerful but curiously opaque images, as if I could see images of men dying or the dead through a frosted window. Overall the sharpest, keenest feeling was a sense of loss and at the end of the sixty seconds I always felt profoundly and mysteriously moved. I never felt this when I heard the word ANZAC. It seemed a word lost in time, like some occult, indecipherable word carved in stone and excavated by non-comprehending archaeologists millennia later. I was more conscious of the word Gallipoli, but only as a battlefield, I had no sense of its other meanings. To me the First World War was as remote as Troy. My only understanding of it was through a story my relatives told me of my grandfather who had fought both at Gallipoli and in France and had been buried alive three times when nearby exploding bombs had buried him under tons of dirt and mud. The third time it took his mates so long to dig him out that he thought he had died. It was said that he never really recovered from this third premature burial and soon afterwards he had to be repatriated back to Australia, forever being afraid of sleeping because he then had nightmares of being entombed alive and suffocating to death. A few months later in 1917 he was on a train travelling back to his hometown of Seymour, Victoria, dressed in his new civvies, when a woman threw a white feather onto his lap, calling him a coward for not being in the army. My grandfather stood up 'to his full height' (all the storytellers agreed on this point) and said proudly, 'Madam, 1 fought overseas for three years. I have done my duty.' When I heard this story I liked to think of the woman slinking off into another carriage, thoroughly humiliated and embarrassed. I gradually accumulated details about the ANZACs as I grew older; Simpson on his donkey, the mateship, the beach landing and the horrifying deaths. I was, of course, aware of the 25 April booze-ups and marches, especially as the marches were now televised on our small black and white TV and I remember not so much the returned soldiers marching down Swanson Street, but the haunting sight of those serious faced boys wearing their deceased father's or grandfather's medals, medals which seemed as large as saucers on the small boys' chests. So intrigued was I by this sight that I enquired about my grandfather's medals but found that they had 'gone missing' and my uncle, who had fought in the Second World War, had so hated the idea of receiving medals for slaughtering his fellow human beings that he refused to accept his at the end of the war. Questioning as to what ANZAC actually meant started with Alan Seymour's play The One Day of the Year. Because it was such a controversial play a television discussion program broadcast an excerpt from it. I think the piece centred on an argument between father and son over what ANZAC Day actually means. I remember thinking that the son was right. To me it seemed a protest play against the moribund and insidiously powerful but out-of-date mythology of ANZAC. Whether this was a correct interpretation of the play I do not know as I have never seen the play as a whole or even read it, but the extract seemed to crystallise my dislike of the older generation and, in a personal way, given the problem of drink in our family, it crystallised my anger at all those drunken men I saw in hotels who seemed oafish braggarts. The ANZAC myth had become twisted and personified in those men who drank themselves silly and who were indifferent or even callous towards their families and so, just as I hated venturing into those foul smelling hotels, so I by-passed what the ANZAC myth meant. This attitude remained with me for some years and like many of my High School friends and, later, my university friends, ANZAC (or more correctly, its symbolic reinactment at ANZAC Day) became a bad joke. The returned soldiers were derided for living in the past and the drunken, stupefied men who were an essentiai part of ANZAC Day, symbolized the emptiness of their claims to importance as Australian heroes and worthy carriers of the Australian coming-of-age. At university I also dismissed the First World War as stupid- didn't these men know they had partaken in an obviously imperialistic war? It wasn't until much later that I grew interested in these men and the ANZAC tradition. A few years ago I caught the tail end of a television documentary about Australians who had been prisoners of the Japanese. Although the men's experiences on the Burma railway were horrifying the most unsettling feature was how the men brought the war home with them. Many still had nightmares about their experiences, some still tried to strangle their wives in their sleep believing they were Japanese soldiers and successful businessmen secretly collected bits of string or soap, still going through the habits of surviving POW camps. This glimpse of Australians mentally scarred by war intrigued me because it revealed a complex and distressing interior life which these Australian men had always denied they had. In order to find out why Australians still carried the horror of their experiences with them I started to read all I could about Australians at war. I v1vidly remember coming across a passage in Gavin Souter's Lion and Kangaroo. It was an extract from a soldier's diary, written during the battle of Pozieres, 'Several of my friends are raving mad. I met three officers out in No Man's Land the other night, all ranting and mad'. The thing that startled me was this seemed hidden history. In talking about the ANZAC tradition Australians had never really talked about the true horrors of the war and the way it affected their interior lives. Although Inside the Island was not set in the First World War battlefields, the play came out of my reading about the wars and what happened to the young boys who became ANZACs and at the end of the play the Captain says, 'What they saw ... the things that went on in their heads ... Can they ever see the world the same way they saw it before?' It was also my question. NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS MICHAEL ACKLAND'S principal research interests are nineteenth century literary culture. He has published extensively on Charles Harpur and Henry Kendall and is the editor of The Penguin book of 19th Century Australian Literature. He teaches at Monash University. JAN BRAZIER assisted Ken Inglis on his survey of war memorials in Australia. She is currently Archivist at the Australian Museum in Sydney. Having taught in Australia and the USA, BRUCE CLUNIES ROSS is a Professor at the University of Copenhagen. He has published extensively on many aspects of Australian literary culture and music, and is an authority on the work of Percy Grainger. BRUCE DAWE is one of Australia's best known poets. He has won many awards including the Mary Gilmore Prize and the Patrick White Literary Award in 1980. Deeply concerned with the oppressed and deprived, he has an abiding interest in 'the lost people in our midst for whom no one speaks.' LIVIO DOBREZ is Reader in English and Convenor of Australian Studies at the Australian National University. He edited the Australian volume of Review of National Literature (1982) and is the author of books on modem European drama and Australian poetry of the sixties, and the recently published identifying Australia in Postmode= Times ( 1994). PAT DOBREZ is an independent scholar who works in Canberra and teaches part-time at the Australian Catholic and the Australian National Universities. An authority on the work of Martin Boyd, she co-authored (with Peter Herbst) The Art of the Boyds (1990) and has written a biography of Michael Dransfield. ANNA GRAY is Director of the Lawrence Wilson Gallery at the University of Western Australia. She was formerly Senior Curator of Art at the Australian War Memorial. Her work includes studies of A. Henry Fullwood, Kenneth Jack, and James W. R. Linton, and she edited a collection of Streeton letters: Letters from Smike. Professor of English at the University of Western Australia, where he teaches and researches drama and post-colonial literary studies, GARETH GRIFFITH has published a book on the plays of John Romeril. An authority on African writing, he is also one of the co-authors of The Empire Writes Back and The Post-Colonial Studies Reader. HELEN GILBERT teaches drama studies at the University of Queensland. Her work in Australian and post-colonial drama studies is recognized for her application of contemporary theory. KEVIN GREEN is an Australian who has taught for many years in Europe. He has a long-term research interest in Xavier Herbert, and teaches at the University of Besancon. The foundation editor of Australian Literary Studies, and the general editor of the UQP's Australian Authors series, LAURIE HERGENHAN held a chair in English at the University of Queensland before his recent retirement. Recently retired from his position as Professor of History at the Australian National University, where he remains an Emeritus Professor, KEN INGLIS has published extens1vely on Australtan htstory. He has a particular mterest m war memorials. VERONICA KELLY teaches tn the Eng!Jsh Department at the University of Queensland and has published extensively on Australian theatre. She IS an authority on the work of Louis Nowra. She is editor of Australian Drama Studies. DAVID KENT teaches history at the University of New England. He has published extensively on C.E.W. Bean and Australian cultural history of the First World War. PETER KOCAN has wntten two partly autob10graph1cal novels, one of which, lhe Cure (1982), won the NSW Premire's Award for fichon . He has written a number of plays and two volumes of poetry including The Other Side of the Fence (1975), from which 'The Photograph' was taken, and Armistice (1980). In 1982 he won the Mattara Festival poetry Prize. Author of The Inked-in Image and The Way We Were, the cartoonist VANE UNDESAY ('Vane'), has drawn for a number of Australia's leading newspapers and maga.tines. IIe is also a book illustrator and a theatre designer, and has a long-standing research interest in Australian comic art. Recently awarded the prestig1ous lmpac Dublin Fiction Prize for his novel Remembering Babylon, DAVIO MALOUF' S other work includes johnno (1975), An Imaginary Life (1978), Child's Play (1982), the war novel Fly Away Peter(l982) and Harland's Half Acre (1984). !lis poetry includes Bkyde and Other Poems (1970), Neighbours in a Thicket (1974), First Things Last (1981), and a Selected Poems (1982). A contemporary of Les Murray and Geoff Page, ROGER McDONALD IS the author of the highly acclaimed 1915 (1979) which was also turned into a television series by the ABC in 1982. A teacher, television producer, and editor, he has also published two volumes of poetry and several other works of prose. The editor of Overla11d, JOHN MclAREN is Professor of the llumanities at the Victoria University of Technology, Footscray He is the author of Australian Literature: A11 Historical Introduction, and is an authority on Pacific wnting. JOHN McQUILTON grew up in the township of Yackandandah. Among h1s publications are the Kelly Outbreak and the first historical atlas produced in Australia which he co-edited with Jack Canun. Originally trained as an historical geographer, his research interests remain regionally based. IIe is currently completing research on the impact of the First World War on North Eastern Victoria. It is with deep regret that since com1mssioning his paper on conscription the editors have learned of the death, in London, of Professor TOM MILLAR . formerly dtrector of the Sir Robert Menzies Australian Studies Centre tn London, fom Millar had a distinguished career in Australta as a h1storian In a sustained writing career spanning over thirty years, LES A. MURRAY has made a singular contribution to Australian writing as a poet, reviewer, essayist and editor. The author of The Boys Who Stole the Funeral (1980), he has recently published a new CoUected Poems. AMANDA NETTELBECK teaches Australian and post-colonial literary studies at Flinders University in Adelaide. She is the author of a monograph o n Dav1d Malouf and has published on aspects of Australian literary culture. LOUIS NOWRA is the author of more than twenty plays, in addition to novels, translations, libretti, and scripts for television and film. among his most recent work is the film-script for Map of the Human Heart and the play- and film-script for Cosi. GEOFF PAGE is the author of the First World War novel Benton's Conviction (1985). In addition to having published five volumes of poetry, Page is also the editor of Shadows from Wke (1983), an anthology of war poetry and photographs. JUDITH RODRIGUEZ has taught literature at a number of overseas universities, and at present teaches at LaTrobe University. She has published five collections of poetry and a new and collected volume of her verse is about to be published. JOHN ROMERIL is the author of The Floating World (1974). Among the leading figures to come out of the New Wave, and a founder of the APG, his more recent work includes The KeUy Dance (1984), Lost Weekend (1989) and Black Cargo (1991). ANNA RUTHERFORD has recently returned to Australia after teaching post-colonial literature at Aarhus University for thirty years. She is the founding editor of the International Arts journal, Kunapipi (1979), and of Dangaroo Press, which publishes post-colonial and feminist creative writing and criticism. She has published widely in the field of post-colonial literature and is the first woman to be appointed international chairperson of the Association of Commonwealth Literature and Language Studies. The author of several volumes of poetry, PHILIP SALOM'S third volume of verse, Sky Poems, which includes the fine poem 'Seeing Gallipoli from the Sky', won the 1987 Commonwealth Poetry Prize; he was also successful in winning this award in 1981. He is also the author of a novel, Playback (1991). MAURIE SCOTT teaches theatre, film and textual studies at the University of Wollongong. His research interests cover Aboriginal theatre, television docu-drama, and Australian film and television. RIC THROSSELL is the son of novelist Katherine Susannah Prichard and Captain Hugo Throssell, VC. In addition to a distinguished career with the Department of Foreign Affairs, he has had a sustained involvement with Hterature, particularly drama. Best known for For Valour, about his father, which won the Mary gilmore Prize, he has also written a fine biography of his mother, Wild Weeds and Wind Flowers and, more recently, an autobiography, My Father's Son, a section of which is included in this book. IUCHARD TIPPING wrote 'VIETGRAM' in 1968, at the age of 18, as a telegram. Thus it is all in headline type. He lectures at the University of Newcastle, NSW. In February 1997 he has a major exhibition of visual poetry at the Eagle Gallery in London. GRAEME TURNER is a Professor of English at the University of Queensland, where he teaches and researches in the area of Cultural and Textual Studies. He is the author of numerous books, including National Fictions, Myths of Oz, Film as Social Practice, and Australian Television. An authority on the poetry of Judith Wright and edttor of Who is She? images of Women in Australian Fiction, SHIRLEY WALKER helped establish the Centre for Australian Literature and Language Studies at the University of New England. She is widely published in Australian literature and is currently writing a history of women's fiction in Australia. fhe author of Inventing Austraha, RICHARD WHITE teaches and researches Australian cultural h1story at the Umvers1ty of Sydney. I le IS currently workmg on a book on aspects of tounsm and the Australian sold1er in the First World War. JAMES WIELAND, Dean of Arts and Professor of English at the University of Wollongong, Australia, is the foundation Director of the New Literatures Research Centre at the University of Wollongong. The co-compiler of an annotated bibliography of Australian Literary Criticism 1970 - 1992 (with Richard Lever, G.K.Hall, 1996), he has published extensively in Australian and post-colonial literary studies. Anzacs at the graves of the fallen on the Western Front INDEX Numbers in italics refer to figures Gibbs, May 142, 147, 148, 149, 150, 152 Snugglepot and Cuddlepie 149 Gibson, Mel as Frank in GaUipoli 215-27 passim, 233 Gilbert, Helen (article by) 93-306 Gittoes, George 187-8 'Mother and child' 185 'Corporal Julie Baranowski, ...' 187-8 'Sergeant jodie Clark' 188 Gordon, Adam Lindsay 5, 6 Ashtaroth 6 'Gone' 6 'Laudamus' 7 ' Rhyme of joyous Garde, The' 6 ' Ye Wearie Wayfarer' 7 Gow, Michael Away 294 Graves, Robert Goodbye to All That 68 Gray, Anna (article by) 183-200 Green, Kevin (article by) 283-9 Grenfell, Julian Into Battle 173 Grey, Oriel 284 Griffiths, Gareth (article by) 261-72 Guadalcanal Dial)' (1943) 205 Gulf War see War Gundagai 157 Haig, Douglas, Field Marshall, Sir 235-6 Hamilton, Ian, General Sir 144, 170 Hanna, Pat, as 'Chic Williams' 204 Harden-Murrumburrah (N.S.W.) 157 Harney, Bill 177, 178-9 Harpur, Charles 1, 5 'Aboriginal Mothe r's Lament, An' 3 'Creek of the Four Graves, The' 7, 10, 12 'Slave Story, The' 7 'Spectre of the Cattle Flat, The' 7 'Tower of the Dream, The' 10 'To Myself june 1855' 9 ' War' 7-8, 10, 12 ' War Song for the Nineteenth Century, A' 1, 8-9 ' Wellington' 8 ' Witch of I Iebron, The' 10 Hart, Pro 16 Hartt, Cecil 188 ' Mary had a little lamb' 188 'Swank, The' 188 Hawkins, Weaver & Noel Kilgour, 'Two minutes silence' 185, 191 Hazzard, Shirley 309-27 passim Transit of Venus 309-27 passim Hemmgway, Ernest 176 Hergenhan, L.H. (article by) 239-48 Herman, Sali 'Back Home' 188 Hero of the Dardanelles, The (Rolfe) 203 Heysen, Nora 187 'Separating blood' 187, 194 'Typing blood' 187 htstory and national mythology 250, 258-9 as subJeCt 229-38 passim Australian compared European 239-40, 250, 258 ' blood history' 245-6 discourses of 249-60 passim representation of 241, 249-60 passim Hodgkinson, Roy 187, 189 'Captain Constance Box' 187, 195 'One Sunday afternoon, TownsvlUe' 189, 199 'Sister joan Box' 187 I logan, Paul, as Cleary in Anzacs 231, 233, 234, 235, 236 as icon 233, 322 Holman, William 97 Home, Donald 169 Horner, Arthur 155 1lo w We Beat the Emden (Rolfe) 203 llughes, William Morris ('Billy') 44, 60, 83, 95, 97, 98, 169, 325 ldness, Ion 172, 176 Desert Column, The 172-3 if the Huns Come to Melbourne (Coates) 203 in Which We Serve (1942) 205 Indonesia, invasion of East Timor see Romeril, Top End Inglis, Ken (article by) 155-60 see also Brazier, Jan, 169 Ireland, David 283-9 passim Burn 283-9 passim Ch;mtic Bir~ The 283 Unknow11 Industrial Prisoner, The 283, 288 japan/Japanese 60, 61, 302 Jarvis, C.S. Half a Life 21 jones, Davtd In Parenthesis 176 journal ofa Wandering AustraliaJ7 123 jungle Patrol (1944) 205 Kangaroo (film, Burstill, 1986) 213 Kangaroo (the novel) see Lawrence, D.H. Keat, Alick 44, 47-8, 50-4 Keat, Percy 43 Kelly, Ned 233 and ' Breaker' Morant 17 Kelly, Veronica (article by) 273-82 Kendall, I lenry 2, 3, 5 ' Australian Volunteer Song' 2 'Last of His Tribe' 3 'Ogyges' 5 'King Saul at Gilgoa' 5 'Voyage of Telegonus, The' 5 Kent, David (article by) 27-40 Kilgour, Noel see Hawkins, Weaver King and Country (1964) 212 Kingsley, Henry Recollections ofGeoffry Hamlyn, The 5 Klplmg, Rudyard 174, 221, 339 jungle Book 221 'Recessional' 174, 309 Kltchener, Horatio I Ierbert 15, 20 Kocan, Peter 'Photograph' 167-8 Kokoda Front Line (Parer) 205 Korean War see War Kurwing•e 'Abonginal Anzac' 291 La~d, John 171, 176 Lambert, George 'La croix de guerre' 184-5 larrikimsm 235 m Egypt 215, 217 Last Bastion, The (tele-series) 211 Lawrence, D.H. Kangaroo 157-9, 213, (film version) 213 Lawson, Henry 1, 16 Lee, Mark, as Archy in GaUipoli 215-27 passim, 233 Letters from a Young Queenslander 123 Leuname, -. 137 Levi-Strauss, Claude Tristes Tropiques 117 Liberal Party 60 'Light Horse Mule- fransport Song, The' 34 L1ghthorsemen, The (film, 1987) 209 Lindesay, Vane (article by) 83-90, (article by) 90-8 see also McLaren, John Lindsay, Joan 70 Lindsay, Lionel 149 Lindsay, Norman 83, 84, 85, 149, 183 ' Will you fight now ...?' 182, 183 'The Peril to Australia' 183 and Will Dyson 83-4 Liverpool camp 133 Lohrey, Amanda 233 Long, the Short and the Tall, The (film, 1951) 205 Longford, Raymond 203 Low, David 83 and Will Dyson 83-4 Lowe, Barry 302 Tokyo Rose 302-4, 304 Lymbumer, Frances 188 'Sold1er with g~Lfriend' 188, 198 M.A.S II. (1987) 211, 212 McDonald, Roger (author's statement) 334 1915 209, 230, 231-2, 239, 246, 247, (as 'War' novel) 239, 329, 334 McDonogh sisters 213 Macken~:ie, Crompton 170, 179 Gallipoli Memon'es 170 McKinney, JP. 177 McLaren, John (article by) 91-100 see also Lindesay, Vane McQuilton, John (article by) 41-9 Madge's frip to Europe and Back: By Herself 123 Malouf, David 72, 239-48 passim, 249-60 passim, (author's statement) 331-2 Imaginary Life, An 241, 242 'Asphodel' 242 'At My Grandmother's' 241 'Bad Dreams in Vienna' 241 Child's Play 240, 241 'Crab f;east, The' 242 'Episode from an Early War' 240 Fly A way Peter 72, 242, 245-6, 249-60 passim I farland's Half Acre 242-3 johnno 240-1 'News from the Dark Ages' 241 'Report from the Champagne Country' 241 'Theologica Germanica' 241 'With the Earlier Deaths' 241 'Year of the Foxes, The' 240 Mandelstram, Os1p 241 Mandie, W.F. 169 Mann, Leonard 171, 178 Flesh in Armour 171-2 Manning, Frederic 171, 259 Her Privates We (The Middle Parts of Fortune) 171, 247, 259 Mannix, Daniel 60 Maralmga Royal Commiss•on 229-30 Marquet, Claude 83, 86, 87 'Blood Vote, The' 84, 87, 90, 95, 98 'Children's Joy Tax' 97 'Club lhat Bug Early' 96 'Conscnphon' 95 'Democracy' 97 'Drink Evil, The' 95 'For the Emancipation of Labor' 93 'God of War, The' 93 'llastenmg to the Front' 92, 93 ' Hats Off! The 5% Patnot' 93, 94 'I'll Have You!' 99 'Interest on War Debt' 97 'Liquor Interests' 95 'Peace! peace!.. .' 93 'That Promise' 93 'With Love on their Lips and I late in their Hearts' 97 mateship 231, 257 Matthews, Harley 171, 175 'Women are not Gentlemen' 175 May, Phil 93 Military Cross 68, 80 Millar, Tom (article by) 59-64 Monash, John, Gen.,Sir 172, 235, 237 Moore, Alan 'Blind Man in Belsen' 184 Morant, Harry ('Breaker') 15-26 passim 'Butchered to Make a Dutchman's Holiday' 18 Mud and Khald 123 Murray, Les A. 239-48 passim, (author's statement) 328-9 'Abomination, The' 246 'Ballad of the Barbed Wire Ocean, fhe' 330 ' Blood' 246 Boys Who Stole the Funeral, The 169, 239-48 passim and feminism 243-4 and rural values 244-5 and social divisiveness 243-5 reception of 246-7 'Buladelah-Taree I loliday Song Cycle, The' 247 'Country Widower' 244 'Lament for Country Soldiers' 246 'Mitchells, The' 244 New Oxford Book ofAustralian Verse, The 175 People's Other World, The 244, 247 Persistence in FoUy 245 'Saw Mill Towns' 244 Smell of Coal Smoke, The 328 'SMLE' 246 'Visiting Anzac in the Year of Metrication' 246 My Lai 211, 294, 318 and Calley trial 211 Myall massacres 3 Nash, Paul 110 nationalism see War Nettlebeck, Amanda (article by) 249-60 New Guinea 60-1, 205 New Zealand/New Zealanders 30, 31, 59, 121, 222 recruitment 42-9 passim Red Badge of Courage, !he (Stephen Crane) 212, 329 Red Cross 42 rehg10n and war 47 Renar, !'rank ('!'rank Fox') 17-18, 221 Bushman and Buccaneer 17 republicanism 8, 9 Robson, L.L. 169 Rodriguez, Judith, 'Zouave Marchmg Team, Rollins College, 1913-1914' 67 Rolfe, Alfred 203 romance see War Romeril, John 261-72 pa.~.sim, (author's statement) 335 neglect of 270-1 thematic concerns with war, cap1talism and the home front 261-72 passim Centenary Dance, The 262 effect on tho~e at home 262 Dud War, The (The Dudders) 262-72 passim first production 262 Floating World, The 261-72 passim, 310, 337-8 Jonah jones 262-3, 267 and Louis Stone's Jonah 262 Top tnd 262 and Indonesian invas1on of East Timor 262 Rosenberg, Isaac 171, 178 Ross, Kenneth Breaker Moran/ 16 RSL 331 Rush (tele-series) 240 Rutherford, Anna (article by) 309-327 Rutherford, john, Pte. 167 Salom, Philip (author's statement) 339 'Seeing Gallipoli from the Sky' 163-5 Sky Poems 341 Sara Dane (tele-series) 240 Sartre, J-P/Sartrean 224 Sassoon, Siegfried 68, 171, 174, 179 Complete Memoirs 77 Memoirs ofGeorge Sherston 68, 76, 77 Scholar's Letters From the Front A 123 Scott, Maune B. (article by) 201-14 screen drama see War Second World War see War Serle, Geoffrey 169 Sewell, Stephen 276, 294, 295 The Blind Giani is Dancing 276, 294 Seymour, Alan, The One Day of the Year 343 Seymour camp 133 Shadbolt, Maurice Once on Chunuk Bair 325 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 5, 10 Shields, F. see Carneg1e Soap see Williamson, CellulOid Heroes socialism 66, 69, 97 Souter, Gavm 169 Lion and Kangaroo 277, 344 Souter, David Henry 83, 87-9 'The Toast is "Anzac", Gentlemen' 141 Spielvogel, Nathan Gumsucker on the Tramp 122 spies, spying 203 Student iJ1 Arms, A 123 Sud1 is Life 241 Sword oflfonour(1986) 209, 210 Sydney, HMS 133 Sydney Stock and Stat1on journal 87, 88 Tate, Don 209 Tennant, Kylie Foveaux 177 Tennyson, Alfred Lord Maud 243 There and Back 123 Thring, Frank 204 Throssell, Hugo V.II. Oim) 65-6 passim ThrosseU, Ric My Father's Son 65-6 Tipping, Richard, 'Vietgram· 1968' 307 Tocsin 91 Trench Pictures From France 123 tourism, tourist 145 soldier as 117-29 and cameras 127 Tucker, James Ralph Rashleigh 3 Turner, Ethel 149 Turner, Graeme (arhcle by) 229-38 Twain, Mark Innocents Abroad 122, 123 Two Minutes Silence (McDonogh sisters, 1933) 213 Uncle Sam 293-306 passim Undertones of War 123 United Australia Party 60 Vietnam (tele-series, 1987) 209, 210 Victoria Cross 65 Vietnam War see War Virgin Soldiers, The (film, 1969) 212 Voss see White, Patrick Walk iJ1 the Sun, A (1945) 205 Walker, Shirley (article by) 15-26 Wallace-Crabbe, Chris 242 Waltzing Matilda (Thring) 204 War and alcohol 95, 133, 134, 136 and anh-war/dissent 261-72 passim and colon1al idenhty/neo-coloniahsm 1-14 paSSJJJl, 20, 71-2 (Boyd), 118-19, 136, 141, 202-3, 206-7, 209, 216-17, 221, 249-60 passim, 264-5, 270 and innocence/experience 215, 216-17, 223, 230-1' 233, 250 and the Home Front 261-72 passim and munitions manufacture 310 and nationalism 2, 3, 8, 15, 17, 201, 202-3, 209, 220-1, 227, 270, 321, 322 and patriarchal cap1talism 309-27 passim and political reality 223 and racism 133, 134, 136, 202-3, 217, 219, 241 and romance 5, 226 and screen drama 201-14 passim, 215-50 passim and conscription 203 and homosexuality 225-6 and propaganda 203 compared to American TV 219 compared to American war films 205-6 compared to British war films 205-6 and sport 173, 225, 247 and transcendence 209, 221-2, 224, 225 and violence 239-48 passim, 266 and women see Women and War and misogyny 317, 318 as representation of change 240-1, 258, 266 discourses of 249-60 passim images of 201-14 passim, 215-28 passim, 239-41 Amencan War of Independence 2 Boer War 15-26 passim, 122, 206-7, 211, 219 Crimean War 9, 65 First World War 27-334 passim Gulf War 184, 187-8 Korean War 61, 309-27 passim and sinking of Tirpitz 309 Second World War 60, 63, 70, 184, 185, 186-7, 188-9, 204-6, 240, 242, 245, 261-72 passim, 310, 325 and Anzac legend 205 Vietnam War 15, 59, 61, 70, 184, 187-8, 210, 211, 219, 236, 243, 249-60 passim, 310 and Australian drama 293-306 passim War Memorials 155-61 Archibald Memorial 164 Australian War Memorial 227, 228 Breeza 161 Double Day 156 Gladstone 160 Newcastle 158 war mongering 75 warrior code 202, 215 and Bush1do 202 and Homenc myth 226 and Old Norse 202 Weir, Peter 207-9, 215-28 passim white feathers 44 White, Patrick The Tree ofMan 177 The Vivisector 177 White, Richard (article by) 117-130 Whitlam, r.. Gough 62 Whitlam Labor Government 159 Wieland, James (articles by) 101-16 & 131-54, 209-10 Wilde, Oscar De Profundis 70 The Picture ofDorian Gray 73 Williamson, David 211, 215, 216 CeUuloid Heroes 219 and Soap (Benson) 219 Gallipoli 215-28 passim Wilmot, hank 177 Windsor, Simon see The Lighthorsemcn Winspear, W.R. ('1 he Blood Vote') 91, 95 Witton, George Scapegoats of the Empire 19, 20, 21 women and war 41, 43, 141, 183-200 passim, 213, 225-6, 243-4, 262, 257-60 absence in screen drama 202 and m1sogyny 317, 318 as stereotype 226 as sexual beings 188-9, 268-9 as victim 183-5, 267-70 at work 186-8, 267-9 fortitude of 185-6 Woolf, Virginia 312 Wordsworth, William 4, 5, 12 Lyrical Ballads 4 Yackandandah 41-9 passim Yackandandah Times41-9 passim .lliant Achievement by Australians. K U N A P I P I I n t e r n a t i o n a l A r t s M a g a z i n e A rich collection of essays which addresses the importance of war to the Australian popular imagination from the coloma! period to the Gulf War. Central to this, and guaranteeing that Apn l the 25th remains Australia's 'one day of the year', is the fatal impact of the Anzac myth . Drawing on social, historical, popular cultural, and feminist respon ses, this book represents the most comprehensive examination of Australia's war experience to date. Includes essays by a number of leading cultural critics: on Australian cartoonists, including Claude Marquet's 'war' cartoons; colonial martial verse; the 'Breaker' Morant stories; postcard s; war monuments; recruitment; regionalism; war, money, munitions, the influence of imperialism and capitalism; visual art from Will Dyson's war drawings to the Gulf War; wome n 's roles. POETRY AND COMMENTARIES: Pe ter Kocan, Bruce Dawe, Kurwingie, David Malouf, Roger McDonald , Les A. Murray, Louis Nowra, Geoff Page, Judith Rodriguez, John Romeril, Philip Salo m, Richard Tipping 368pp., 10 colour and 79 black and whtte illus trahons, mdex BRILLIANT 573029 Michael Ackland , ' War and Colonial Identity: The Poetic Response' 1 Shirley Walker , "'A Man Never Knows his Luck in South Africa": Some Australian Literary Myths from the Boer War' 15 David Kent , ' Bean's "Anzac" and the Making of the Anzac Legend' 27 john McQuillan , ' Yackandandah's War' 41 Alick Keat Documents 50 Tom Millar , ' Con scription for Military Service' 59 Ric Throsse/1, 'My Father's Son' 65 judith Rodriguez , 'Zouave Marching Team, Rollins College, 1913 - 1914 ' 67 Pat Dobrez , ' When Blackbirds Sing: Martin Boyd and the Reality of Good Friday' 68 Vane Lindesay , ' Australian Cartoonists and World War I' 83 john McLaren and Vane Lindesay, 'Th e War Cartoons of Claude Marquet' 91 james Wieland , 'Winter Witness: Will Dyson's Australia At War and Other War Drawings' 101 Richard White, ' The Soldier as Tourist: The Australian Experience of th e Great War' 117 james Wieland , "'What do you think of this Card?" Postcards To and From Australia During The First World War' 131 K. S. Inglis and jan Brazier, 'Th e Silent Sentinel: War Memorials in the Australian Landscape' 155 GeoffPage , 'Smalltown Memorials' 161 Philip Sa /om, ' Seeing Gallipoli From The Sky' 163 Peter Kocan , 'Photograph' 167 Bruce Clunies Ross , 'Silent Heroes' 169 Anna Gray , 'Sufferers, Workers, Lovers: Australian Visions of Wome n at War' 183 Maurie Scott , 'Images of War in Australian Screen Drama' 201 Livia and Pat Dobrez , ' Old Myths and New Delusions: Peter Weir's Australia' 215 Graeme Turner , ' ANZACS: Putting the Story Back in History' 229 Laurie Hergenhan , ' The Containment of Violence: Aspects of the Roles of War in the Work of David Malouf and Les Murray' 239 Amanda Nettelbeck , ' Languages of War, Class and National History: David Malouf's Fly A way Peter' 249 Gareth Griffiths , ' John Romeril's Wars: The Dissenting View' 261 Veronica Kelly , "'Lest We Forget": Louis Nowra's Inside the Island' 273 Kevin Green , ' War in Australia, or Australia at War With Itself: David Ireland's Burn ' 283 Australian Labor Party 59 , 60 87 , 91 , 95 , 98 , 159 Australian Women's Army Service (AWAS) 186 Australian Worker (newspaper) 87 , 91 , 93 , 97 , 98 Bahnsen , Carl August 166 Barker , David ' A helpmg hand' 188 Barthes , Roland 177 , 217 Bartlett , Ellis Ashmead 29 Bates , DaiSy (Daisy O' Dwyer ) 19 , 23 ' Baylebridgc, William' (William Blocksedge) 175 - 7 . Aluac Muster , An 175-7 'Author's Preface' 175 , 176 ' All Hesh is One' 176 'Bill' s Religion' 175 , 176 'Lone Pine' 176 'Protest' 175 , 176 Bean , C.E.W. 27-39 passim, 136 , 169 , 230 , 233 , 296 , 310 , 312 History ofthe Australians at War 1914- 1918 136 , 169 , 186 , 334 Letters from France 123 Bedford , Randolph Explorations in Civilisation 122 Beerbohm , Max Zuleika Dobson 69 Beersheba 172 , 205 Belgium 131, 145 Relief f'und 42 Ben Hall ( tcle-series) 213 , 240 Bendigonian Abroad , A 123 Benson , G .G. 133 , 136 Bertodamo , Ramon de 23- 4 Between the Wars ( 1974 ) 206 Blake , Wilham 4 , 8 , 12 'The French Revolution' 4 'Amcnca, a Prophecy' 4 Bluey and Curley 213 Boote , Henry 91 , 93 Boorstin , Daniel 117 Boyd , Martin 68 -82 passim, 171 , 178 -9 A Difficult Young Man 73 A Single Flame 69 Cardboard Crown , !he 77, 79 Day of My Delight 69 Love Gods 70 Lucinda Brayford 68 , 72 , 78 Montfords, The 68 , 69 , 72 Much Else in Italy 70 Retrospect 70 Scandal ofSpring 70 Such Pleasure 69 , 70 - 1 , 78 When Blackbirds Sing 68-82 passim, 179 Why They Walk Out 70 Boyd , Merrie 71 Boyd , Penleigh 71 , 72 Brass Hat in no Man's Land, A 123 Brazier , Jan (article by) 155 - 60 St:.'e also Inglis, K.S. BreakofDay ( 1976 ) 206 Breaker Morant ( 1980 ) 206 , 211 - 12 , 235 Brecht , Bertholt 264 , 270 Mother Courage 264 Bndges , W.T.MaJOr-Gen. 155 Broadmeadows Camp 133 Brooke , Rupert 69 , 173 Bruce , Mary Grant 149 Bulletin 16 , 17 , 31 , 83 , 87 , 91 , 122 Bullets and Billets 123 Burke , Robert O'Hara 6 Bum , David 2 Sydney Delivered 2 Our First Lieutena11t 2 Bush myth 201, 231 and the Anzac 30 , 201 - 2 , 220 , 230 231 - 2 and 'Breaker' Morant 15- 16 , 17 Bushveldt Carbineers 15 , 17 , 23 Butler , A.G. 316 Carro 43 , 121 Caldwell , Arthur 203 capitalism 78 , 87 , 93 , 97 , 261 - 72 passin1, 309 -327 passim Capricomia 241 Caputo , Phthp A Rumour of War 318 Caiboni (play) 240 Camegte and Shields In Seaich of Breaker Morant 23 cartoomsts 83-9 passim Catch 22 ( 1970 ) 211 , 212 Catherine (play) 240 Chauvel , Charles 204 , 205 , 207 - 8 , 328 see also Forty Thousand Horsemen & Rats of Tobmk, The Chesterton , G.K. 109 Churchill , Winston Sir 220 Clancy , Jack 206 , 209 , 212 Clark , Mannmg 169 , 220 , 325 A History ofAustralia (6 vols .) 220 Clarke , Marcus 3 Foi the Teim ofHis Natuul Life/His Natural Life 3 class 235 discourses of 249-60 passim Clunies Ross , Bruce (article by) 169 - 82 Coates , George, artist 186 ' Arrival of first Australian wounded ...' 186 , 192 Coates , George, film director 203 Coleridge , Samuel Taylor 4 Connor , Kevin 184 , 187 ' Old woman m the town square at Najaf' 184 'Refugees' 184 Conscription 44 , 45 , 55 - 63 passim, 59 , 84 , 95 , 99 , 203 anti-conscription 45 , 60 , 91 , 97 , 98 National Service schemes 61 , 62 , 307 posters 'Blood Vote, The' 90 ' Don't Falter Go And Meet The Hun Menace' 58 'It Is Nice In fhe Surf' 57 'Women of Queensland' 55 'Would you stand by' 56 Referenda 45 , 46 , 60 , 84 , 91 , 97 Cook , Joseph 95 , 97 Cossington Smith , Grace, 'The sock knitter' 185 - 6 Counihan , Noel 'Woman and Soldier ( Pick-up)' 188 Cowra Breakout ( 1985 ) 214 Craig , Sybil 186 'No. 1 ProJectile Shop , Maribymong' 186 , 193 Crocodile Dundee 202 Cross , Tom 133 cummmgs, e. e. Enonnous Room 176 Curtin , John 60 , 187 Cutlack , F.M . Breaker Morant· A Horseman Who Made History 21 Dadswell , Lvndon 187 'Munition' workers' 196 David , Jacques-Louis ' The Oath of Horatii' 2 Dawc , Bruce 'For the Other Fallen' 290 Dawes , J.N.l. & L.L.Robson Citizen to Soldier 120 Day , Donald 124 Deakin , Alfred 59 Defence Acts 44-5 , 59 Dennis , C.J. The Moods of Ginger Mid .. 169 Eliot, T.S. 7he Waste land 178 Denton , Kit 16 , 21 , 22 Enemy Withm, 7he (film, Stavely) 203 Breaker, The 16 , 22 Enright, Nick, St fames lnfumary (play) Closed FiJe 22 , 24 - 5 294 Digger_ The 27-39 passim Esson, Louis 271 Digger at Home and A broad, A 123 Eureka Stockade (Caldwell) 203 Digger Dave 293-306 passim Evans, Roslyn 185 Digger Tourists 123 'All the fine young men: .. .' 185 , 191 Diggers (Thring) 204 Every Day , Every Night ( 1983 ) 213 Diggers Abroad 123 Facey, Albert (Bert) 179 Diggers m Blighty (Thring) 204 A Fortunate Life 120 Dimboola Banner 122 'Fat' 91 , 93 , 95 , 97 , 98 see also capitalism dissent see War , and antt-war/dtSsent Femimsm 255-6 see also Eisenstein, Dobrez , Livio 209 , (article by) 215 - 28 see Zillah also Dobrez, Pat First World War see War Dobrez , Pat (article by) 68 - 82 , 209 , (article Fitzpatrick, Peter, After the Doll 262 by) 215 - 28 see also Dobrez, Liv1o Flash jim Fau.>. (play) 240 Dunera Boys ( 1985 ) 214 For the Term ofHis Natural Life/His Dunlop , Eliza Hamilton 'Aboriginal Natural Life see Clarke, Marcus Mother, The' 3 Ford, Madox Ford 80 l:. gypt 133-6 , 144 , 152 passim, 298 [tSenstein, Lillah 312-13 , 319 - 20 GI Joe 293-306 passim 1915 see McDonald Nolan , S1dney, Gallipoli pamtings 226-7 Norfolk Island 2 , 3 Nowra , Louis 273 -82 passtm, 294 , 295 , (author's statement) 342 Cosi 294 inside the island 273-82 , 294 , 344 Precious Woman, The 280 Sunrise 294 Odd Angry Shot , TM (film , 1979 ) 206 , 211 , 212 Ogilvie , Will 16 'Over There' with the Australians 123 Owen , Wilfred 105 , 171 , 178 'Dulce Et Decorum Est' 178 'Strange Meeting' 76 - 7 , 213 pacificism 68 , 71 Page , Geoff author's statement 332-3 Benton's Conviction 333 'Christ at Gallipoli' 333 - 4 'Smalltown Memorials' 162 Parer , Dam1en 205 Parkes , IIenry 9 Pater , Walter The Renaissance 73 Paterson , A.B. ('Banjo') 16 Paths ofGlory ( 1957 ) 212 Pearce , Philip 117 Picnic at Hanging Rock 215 , 223 - 4 , 226 Porter , Peter 247 postcards 130-54 Field Service cards 144 patriotic themes 141 regimental cards 144 silk postcards 145 , 149 'J\ustraleo' 141 , 142 'Australia Day' 130 'Bravo Anzacs' 146 ' Coo-ee from Australia , A' 135 ' Get Out ! Etta barra!' 135 , 133 'Loving Thoughts of My Dear Sold1er' 152 Private in the Guards, A 123 Public Monuments Advisory Board (PMAB) 157 see also War Memorials Queenslander's Travel Notes, A 123 Quiz 91 Raemaker , Louis 83 Rafferty , Chips 204 , 233 Randwick camp 132 Rats of Tobruk, The (Chauvel , film, 1942 ) 204 , 205 , 208


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Anna Rutherford. Kunapipi 18 (2 & 3) 1996 Full Version, Kunapipi, 1996,