Matilda and the American Soldier

Matilda Riley had met Jerome Zeigler in the old country nearly two years earlier, in 1943, when he was serving in the U.S. military and stationed near her family farm in Tulginshire. Jerome was generous with the family, giving them chocolate bars and cigarettes. Sometimes he even had cigars for her Pap, and, on the sly provided her with silky stockings which were hard to get at the time. They all admired his giving ways and welcomed him to their world, a southern hemisphere paradise in New South Wales Australia.

Jerome was a big talker and handsome. As homage to his curly auburn hair, he insisted that everyone call him “Red”. His fair but ruddy complexion and water blue eyes matched his flaming hair and drew people to him. A smiling jokester, he was a lady’s man, like his dad had been before him. Although Red wasn’t tall, his bearing was sturdy and he carried himself in a way that appeared competent and, as many young men do, he looked good in his uniform.

Tilda (as she preferred being called) was an athletic girl who excelled at golf, played the piano beautifully and loved gardening and dancing. Of an innocent and naïve nature, she took pride in her virginity and held it close. The fourth of seven sisters, she’d seen how some of the older ones had behaved with boys and would have nothing of their party mentality. She looked toward a bright successful future and no romantic blunders were going to get in her way and ruin her plans. Tall, with jade green eyes (“Irish eyes” Pap called them), dimples, and a perpetual tan, she was a stunner. Many young men tried to win her prize, but all failed until she met Red. 

Pap typically disliked the Americans and didn’t try to hide his disdain. But he seemed to take to one or two of the GIs who called on his girls. Likewise, Pap knew that most Aussies thought of the American soldiers as heroes who were barring Japanese troops from Australian soil. With that in mind, he usually tempered his ridicule of these conscripted young American defenders. “I think they mean well, dumb kids most of ‘um,” he’d share repeatedly with his mates.

Tilda’s first encounter with her future soulmate occurred while she was running along Durunbah beach with Rosie, her shiny coated Australian Terrier. Her brother Charles, whom the family called “Chaz” was heading for the surf with Red, when Tilda and her furry companion dashed by. He yelled “Matilda, slow down”, and headed after her. If Rosie hadn’t jumped into his arms during the chase, Tilda would have continued on her run, oblivious to Chaz’s calls. “Tilda, Meet my buddy from America. His name is Red”. They sat in the sand drinking shandies and laughing about how Rosie and Red had the same hair color. Red was struck by Tilda’s beauty, and particularly the way she joyfully ran down the beach, crossing one long tanned leg over the other while skipping along. It was no surprise when Chaz brought Red to the farm several times. Red brought gifts. Mum fed him home cooked meals, Matilda giggled and blushed. And love was born.

Even during such grim times, everyday life was often fun for the young people; they worked at it. There was dancing at the Empire Dance Palace, picnics on the beach, golf, and those great horses of Pap’s. They tried to fit joy into every minute, and young love made all the challenges seem that much easier. Red didn’t know if he’d safely make it back home or if he’d even have a future. This Aussie girl was the love of his life; he wanted her. And Tilda was ready to get away from Tulginshire and what she considered the drudgery of farm life.

Following Jerome’s proposal, Matilda feared her folks would protest, but surprisingly they approved of her choice even knowing it would take their daughter to the other side of the world. With ten children to raise, they anticipated bright futures for all their kids, and did not want to stir the waters when there were no swells. Mum felt Matilda needed an ambitious person like Red and hoped a home in America where the streets were “lined in gold” would be her best opportunity for the good life. American soldiers were dissuaded from marrying Australian girls but could request permission from their commanding officers. These requests were typically successful, but usually took months before the paperwork was completed and permission granted.

When the wedding day arrived, the bride wore her long dark hair piled high in a waved roll, wrapped around old stockings she had saved to adjust under her hair for lift. Fabrics and clothing were not easily available during wartime, but her older sister Betty, an Ursuline Nun, no longer had use for fancy dresses and suits, and gave Matilda a soft shimmery brown silk and wool suit and matching brown leather pumps, she had saved, as a wedding gift. Cousin Muriel who had driven forty miles up the coast, from Byron Bay, loaned Tilda her blue velvet feathered cloche. Pinned safely on with the abalone and silver hat pin her Mum had received from oldest son Patrick, the hat sat prettily on the bride’s neatly coifed hair, feather waving softly in the breeze. Red, in his dress uniform, looked the prize catch and everyone in the small wedding party beamed hopefully. As Tilda dressed in her wedding attire, she smiled in satisfaction at her reflection in the mirror.

Following a quick ceremony, at the local Brisbane Civil Registry, officiated by longtime family friend Father Conahan who had traveled by horseback to celebrate the wedding, Tilda, Red and the small entourage of family members quickly caught the Tulginshire Railway back to the farm to assemble for the celebratory meal.

The long exuberant wedding dinner was filled with joking, laughter, and radio music. Later, the couple left for some dancing, and their two-day honeymoon at the Pacific Inn. After their brief romantic interlude, they’d spend a fortnight at a room Red had rented for them while awaiting his deployment orders. He wasn’t sure where or exactly when he’d be shipping out, so the couple spent every moment they could, together, planning their lives in the USA.

Within a fortnight, Red’s orders required him to leave for the States, and await discharge from the military while his bride remained in Australia. Until official permission could be arranged for her to sail across the world and join him, she had no choice but to bide her time. 

Tilda cried and waited, waited, and cried some more, suffered bouts of asthma, fretting with anxiety. Privately, afraid to burden her parents, she worried that her groom had neglected his wedding vows and forgotten her, that he never really loved her and that she’d been abandoned. It was a poor start to a life of potential marital bliss. Matilda felt humiliated and ashamed, possibly awaiting a man who might never send for her.

Contemplating her future and privately questioning her own decision-making skills, Matilda thought about her childhood days, chewing on the sugar canes in the paddocks down the road, and how much fun it had been when Mum, who liked to row the boat, would row the kids over to Fingal and the Caves. Nostalgically she recalled how when too young to caddie, on Pap's 9-hole farm golf course, she would look for golf balls for just three pence each, and how Pap had helped her and her sister Shirley plant their own little vegetable garden with lots of radishes – the girls’ favorite.

She reflected on just how much she would be leaving. Suddenly, her life on the farm seemed carefree. What would her new life provide? Would she have a piano in her new home, she wondered? Matilda did not know what she would find in America, where she would live and even wondered if Red’s family and friends would welcome or reject her.

On April 11, 1946, in Brisbane Australia, Mrs. Matilda Zeigler along with seven hundred other war brides, boarded the refitted luxury cruise ship Mariposa for the journey of their lifetime across the Pacific and their destiny. Folding wooden and canvas lounge chairs lined the main deck of the ship. Women wrapped themselves in drab green army blankets, read information folders or napped. Groups huddled together chatting, dozens cried for the family they were leaving. Secretive loners here and there, flirted with crew members.

The ship was filled with people, but each was all alone. Mrs. Jerome Zeigler clung to the handful of Aussie mementos her Mum had so carefully wrapped for her trip. Inside a handmade notions box, Mum had made from magazine pictures, cardboard, embroidery thread and colored yarn she had saved for years, were photos of the whole family, her dog Rosie and favorite sister Shirley, homemade sugar cane candies and a toy koala.

Standing on deck, Tilda gazed out to sea, at the past and into the future. Leaving her childhood home and family, bound for a new life, a family of her own and the adventure of a lifetime. She was excited, hopeful, laughing under her breath as tears smudged her face, already longing for the home she’d left behind.