Now I See You, Now I Don't

Now I See You, Now I Don’t

I place the tray with two hot coffees and four chocolate chip muffins on the small side-table in Bill's room. He looks deep in thought. Once again, he has obviously dressed himself, as he is wearing his favourite faded check shirt and his old blue cardigan, which is buttoned-up lopsided. He doesn't like the carers telling him what to wear and dressing him. Bill agrees they mean well and want him to look tidy, but he insists on wearing what he likes, when he likes, even if it does look the worse for wear. He refuses to part with his cardigan, with its frayed cuffs. Mary, his late wife knitted it years ago. "it's my favourite," he insists.

"How are you this morning, Bill?" I ask. He looks at me and in a deep croaky voice and says, "I can't complain. I'm eighty-four. Most of my old mates have gone, but I'm still here, takin' up space."

"Good for you, "I say as I pass him a black coffee and a muffin. "I was thinking of you and I'm wondering how the funeral for your dear friend went yesterday."

He reaches for his bottle of brandy and splashes some into his cup, which overflows into its saucer. His hand trembling, he leans forward over his cup and carefully sips his coffee. I watch anxiously, hoping he doesn't spill it over the table again. Bill puts down his cup and reaches for the brandy and two tumblers.

"Just a small one for me Bill." I know I shouldn't drink on the job, but I'll put my drink down to market research. Linda, my supervisor asked me to check on Bill as Rachel, his daughter expressed her concern at the amount of brandy Bill has been drinking lately. As he pours our drinks, brandy dribbles over the table before any enters the glasses. A tell-tale history of stains and glass rings discolour the top of the table. Perhaps, if Rachel visited Bill more often, she would see what Bill's problem is.

Bill raises his glass. "To Ted, may he rest in peace,' he says in a clear voice. I raise my glass and we drink a toast to Ted. Bill looks at the muffins, selects one and peels the wrapper off.

"There were only a few of us old fellas there yesterday. We talked about how Ted and others we served with in the Middle East...and Tommy of course..." His voice fades away. He stirs his coffee, looks at his glass of brandy and downs the last of it. I can see his thoughts are elsewhere.

"We were on a troopship heading for India...on the way to the Middle East. We didn't know if we would make it. There were reports of Jap subs in the Indian Ocean." He pauses, "I probably told you this before."

"No, you did tell me a little about your time in Egypt, but you haven't talked about how dangerous it was in convoy. I'd like to hear about it. Only if you want to."

He wipes some crumbs away from his mouth, which fall and cling onto his cardigan.

"It was very monotonous voyage being cooped up. During our free time many of us occupied ourselves at playing Two-up, Poker or Crown and Anchor. We organised some boxing matches on the ship's deck to help pass the time. My mate, Tommy used to box, not pro, just amateur, and he was pretty good. Anyway, Tommy challenged me to a match. He fancied himself as a champion. Well, we were sparring, and Tommy starts throwing solid punches. One strikes my cheek, which hurt. I told him to ease up. He just laughed and continued to throw more solid punches . I covered up to avoid a volley of punches. He threw a powerful right punch with the weight of his body behind it. I ducked and weaved around him and hit him with a right hook on his jaw. The ship lurched with a big wave. Tommy staggered forward losing his balance, at the same time the ship heaved again with another huge wave. Tommy stumbled awkwardly towards the ship's rail, and fell overboard."

"Good heavens," I don't know quite what I'd expected to hear, but it wasn't that.

"We searched over the side for him, but he vanished without trace."

"How terrible for you, Bill"

"For a long time, I blamed myself." With a shrug of his shoulder, he continued. "I couldn't believe how quickly it happened. One second, he's right there in front of me. The next he's gone, like he's vanished forever."

"It was hardly your fault. It was an accident really."

"I know that now. I guess, when your number's up, your number's up."

"Bill, I've been meaning to ask you how was your music event with the students from the local high school?"

Bill's face lights up with a big smile. "It was a wonderful afternoon. They were very interested in listening to the old songs and our war-time stories. I played a couple of Vera Lynn's songs on my accordion."

"I am so pleased for you. I am so sorry I missed it. Would you mind telling me more about your time in Egypt?"

"Egypt? Hot as hell, noisy. filthy and dusty. Just lots of sand and sandflies and Arabs. I saw the pyramids. For a while it was boring as hell, so to keep us occupied and entertained they put on a Chips Rafferty movie in a huge tent."

"You're pullin' my leg."

He chuckled and shook his head. "No. Fair dink'um. We saw Forty Thousand Horsemen." But it wasn't long before we got a taste of some real action. While we were in Tobruk Harbour there was a dive-bomber attack. We dived for cover. One soldier, sitting apart from the rest of his mates was opening his tin of beef with his bayonet. He was laughing about how the bombing wasn't goin' to spoil his lunch, when a huge hunk of shrapnel, did just that. And he was gone, in an instant. We looked later for him and found only his bayonet and the can."

"I hope you don't mind me asking about the war? I do understand if you don't want to. I grew up being told not to ever ask about the war. I know some veterans don't want to talk about it, especially if they experienced horrific encounters in action."

We sit there in silence for a brief moment as he gathers his thoughts.

"Ted had some terrible experiences. He would cry when we walked around the ANZAC Memorial Garden. He would repeat over and over, 'So young...so young..." and weep. He lost several mates in the Middle East and on the Kokoda Trail. He was devastated when his best mate was shot by a sniper. He died in Ted's arms."

Bill pauses briefly and takes a deep breath. I sense a growing discomfort. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to. I don't want to upset you."

"I'm okay. It helps sometimes to talk about it."

"There was one time, Ted could never understand. He and three other soldiers were in a dug-out. There was lots of rattling of machine guns and mortars flying. Others were darting for cover from tree to tree while some started bellying through the mud. There were enemy snipers in the trees. On top of that, it was hot as hell and they ran out of water. They knew they needed more water to survive. One of them had to go and fill up their water bottles."

"What did they do."

"Who-ever drew the shortest match had to go for the water. It was Ted. They all shook his hand, knowing the likelihood of his returning was not good. Somehow, he got the water. He shot a sniper and killed two Japs in their trench. When he got back to the dug-out there was smoke and dust coming out. The three of them were dead...killed by a bloody grenade."

"How terrible..."

Bill looks at me with glassy eyes. "Ted could never understand why he survived that day and his mates didn't." We sit quietly for a brief spell. Bill is deep in his thoughts. He finishes his coffee. His face screws up.

"That good, is it?"

"He smiles. "Blah, it's cold." He finishes his second muffin, while I make us another coffee. He very carefully drains the last of the brandy to his coffee, without spilling any. "I don't know how or where it vanishes too." He tastes his coffee. He licks his lips. "Sometimes, it doesn't make sense at all."

"How do you mean, Bill?"

"In New Guinea, it was shocking in the jungle at night. The bloody mozzies would be suckin' the life out of you, spreading their dreaded malaria. And it was forever raining...so sticky, hot and steamy. Sometimes, at night the jungle could be so silent and dangerous. The silence was incredible. We knew the Japs were close by and we had to keep very still, and silent as possible. I thought I was safely hidden out of sight. On full alert searching constantly for any tell-tale movement or sound. Before I could do anything, I felt a sharp blade against my throat. I dare not move as another hand groped over my shoulder feeling my Aussie lapel badge. Then a voice whispered very softly with an Indian accent, "G'day Aussie," and followed with a pat on my shoulder. In an instant, he vanished without trace."

"Good heavens," I murmur.

"Heavens right. Good thing I was wearing my lapel badge as it was an Indian Gurkha. Good thing, they were on our side. They were so silent and deadly." Bill finishes his coffee. He looks directly at me. "I have never forgotten how lucky I was that night. Whenever I watered my garden on a hot summer evening, the sound of the water droplets falling onto the leaves of my Elephant Ears and Umbrella trees took me back to that night in the jungle." Bill smiles, as he leans back in his arm chair. "I don't wish to be rude, but I need my afternoon nap."

"No worries, Bill. I'd better get moving anyway. My supervisor will be wondering where I vanished to."