Story 63 - Short Stories and Poems
By Jim Wilson
Original published in Reunion Booklet held in Brisbane 1988.
Short Story 1
Short Story 2
Short Story 3
Poem 1 - The Poineers
Near the southern railroad track
where the coal trains often run,
Beside the busy highway,
Highway number one,
Stands a lone memorial to a long forgotten son.
George Taylor was his name,
Lieutenant was his rank,
Intelligence was his Corps,
Science, art and journalism were his interests,
Born in 1872 and died in 1928.
His one claim to fame?
Along with friends four fold,
Send the first Army wireless Signal from old Aussie soil.
Vee for Victor was the letter tapped upon the key,
Sapplings lashed together to a height of 50 feet,
Formed the aerial for all to see, and Marconi were the sets they
used.
A problem one of two they struck to send a mere three miles,
From Heathcote South to Waterfall but eventually won through.
Then for that weekend they sent many tapped messages for the boss to
read.
The date is in dispute, but many will agree,
The 28th and 29th March 1910 was the time for the event.
Near eighty years have
passed with many wars been fought,
And signalmen will salute the pioneers of their Corps.
Poem 2 - The Last Goodbye
No bress bands to bid farewell, no
large convoys of ships or planes or trucks,
No stirring speeches from leaders tall, just a group of loyal
friends and family there,
Tear-stained faces, handshakes warm, hugs and kisses hide their
fears.
-- Is this the last goodbye?
The small group of soldiers board the train for Brisbane
(then a plane; Asia bound).
Sydney's suburbs merge into night; farmhouse lights show twinkle
bright.
Neon lights show towns asleep, train rumbling over bridges reveals
the deep ravines,
east flowing rivers and streams.
Dark countryside envelopes the capsule hurtling through the
gloom.
Hypnotic effect of wheel upon rail sends the mind into kaleidoscopic
thoughts.
The fears, the joys, the loves, the sorrows and fun of past and
present
-- of the future none?
The depth of night, the dark unknown, grips the soul and sends one's
thoughts askew.
The morning star pulses
bright, then slowly fades, as dawn's orange rays
pierce the night.
Dew upon the gras sparkles crystal clear, like reflecting diamonds.
New day brings hope afreash and assurance from Afar
-- maybe that was not
the last goodbye
Poem 3 - Do you remember?
Balcombe, Enoggera, The National,
Canungra, Pre-Em Leave, Vung Tau touchdown,
first sight of Nui Dat, the sand pit, mozzy-nets, Paludrin tablets,
"first release" movies
and folding chairs, goffers and cheap beer; mail from home and the
"dear Johns",
Sunday in Vungers, the Peter Badcoe Club, the back Beach and Yank
PX,
the Star Stream Bath and the Sydney Bar, R and R, the garbage run,
Luscombe Field,
pitduty, the Horse Horseshoe, Reg - and his schraonel wound, Tet
Offensive '68,
Hoa Long and Baria, the Laundry run, RTA date, counting the days,
Aussie touchdown.
And what are you doing these days, mate?
Grazer, policeman, school teacher, public servant, pig farmer,
accounttant,
aircraft safely, solicitor sales manager, compositor, furnture
restorer, local government.
But whatever happened to -----? Cancer, car accidents,
suicide, brain tumor -----.
"Where have all the young men gone? Gone to graveyards
everyone."
Lest we forget
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