‘Thank you. That would be good,’ Finn said formally, carrying on the game as he took his plate to the table.
After breakfast he headed out to see John and help with the construction. John was an excellent builder and already Finn had learned a lot from him. The fire had stopped at a brick wall in the middle of the house. John had explained to Finn how the wall had been part of the original homestead and that, when he had married Jess’s mother, he had built the kitchen and extra rooms that had luckily remained relatively unscathed by the fire.
After a morning of hard work on the roof, they stopped for a long break at lunchtime. Finn lay in the shade of a big tree, contemplating how much he relished the feeling of hard work. He couldn’t help but ponder the purity of building — using his hands and energy to create shelter, doing what men had done since moving out of the cave. He also couldn’t help but make the comparison between what he did in the army and what he was doing here. In the army he congratulated himself on doing something that benefited the Australian people, but really he’d been congratulating himself for being such a legend, and all he’d done was destroy things. He felt embarrassed at how he had thought himself so much better than everyone who wasn’t fighting in the war. Remembering the fight he’d had with Chris back in Sydney, he physically cringed at what he’d said, and how superior he’d clearly felt to Chris. How could he have blamed Chris for reacting like that? He realised now that he’d been wrong, deluded by self-importance.
Working here on the farm for two people he barely knew — who had saved his life and been so generous and welcoming — was a much better way of proving his worth, being useful. He recognised that this was the essence of being a man.
‘Finn, can you pass me that drill down there?’ called John from the top of a ladder.
‘Sure,’ called Finn, getting up from his spot under the tree. He strode over to pick up the drill. ‘So John, have you always been a farmer?’
‘Thanks,’ said John taking the drill. ‘No, not always. After growing up out here on the farm I went off to school in the city, just like Jess and Aaron did. I had a whale of a time once I settled into boarding-school life and all that. I studied art history, would you believe?’ he looked down at Finn, grinning. ‘I figured that if I ended up back out on the farm, at least I’d be a cultured bloody farmer!’
‘I’m beginning to not let anything surprise me about you and your family, John,’ Finn laughed. ‘So what made you come back?’
‘Well, I guess I never really left in a way,’ John paused to drill a hole in the wall in front of him, ‘or should I say the land never left me. I enjoyed the city life but in the end I just found it lacked the soul and substance of the bush. Out here I feel like I’m part of the world, part of nature. In the city I just felt part of the bloody rat race.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ said Finn, nodding. ‘Trouble is it took a war for me to get out and find myself.’
‘It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? I remember when I first left the city and came back here, I was in pieces — hated the place! Ended up having to go travelling for a year to find myself. Then when I came back for the second time I realised it was right, and that this land was part of my creed.’
‘Your creed?’ asked Finn.
‘Yeah,’ said John, handing the drill back down to Finn. ‘Every man has a creed by which he lives his life. Mine involves living out on the land. You have a creed — it’s inside you.’
‘That’s pretty philosophical, mate,’ said Finn genuinely surprised.
‘It’s the art history, mate. Can’t help myself!’
‘So what’s your creed, then?’ Finn probed.
‘I’m not telling you,’ John chuckled. ‘But like I said, it involves living out here, on the land, communing with nature every day.’
For the rest of the day, Finn pondered the idea of his creed while he worked on the house.
That night he went for a walk with Jess to the river that lay to the north of the homestead. The sun had already set, but the sky was still light. The air was cooler and smelled crisp, clean and alive — every breath was like a drug. He wanted more. The birds were noisy, as they always were at that time. The riverbank was a remarkable spot, a true oasis in the desert where trees grew green and lush. The current was not strong at this time of year, but Jess had told him that in the wet season the river would swell, with millions of litres rushing through.
Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, Finn and Jess stared out at the river.
‘I need to go into town tomorrow,’ Finn said, breaking the long comfortable silence. ‘I have to find out what happened to the rest of my squad. I need to know they got out okay.’
‘Is it safe for you to go into town, though?’ Jess asked, looking at him with concern.
‘I think so. The Chinese patrols seem to have eased up again.’
‘Are you going back to the war?’ asked Jess hesitantly.
‘I’m not sure,’ Finn replied honestly.
‘Finn, what’s the point?’ Jess burst out. ‘You said it yourself. There’s no way Australia can win. The Chinese are here now. We need to adapt, not fight.’
‘I know Jess, but it doesn’t matter. I realise now that I gave up fighting for Australia a long time ago. I’ve been fighting for my mates, and there is no way I can live with myself knowing that they are out there dying while I’m here.’
Jess turned away and looked at the river, the water gently drifting past.
‘Your call, Finn. We can’t stop you leaving and we’re really grateful for everything you’ve done,’ she said, her voice sad.
Finn looked at her as she stared out at the river.
‘Come on. We should get back before it gets too dark,’ said Finn, standing and offering Jess his hand.
The next morning Finn took the Patrol into town on his own. He knew the way now, from the trips he had made with John. There was more life and buzz in the town today — people were starting to come out after the recent reprisals. Finn sensed the feeling of apprehension among the people of the town, though. It wouldn’t take much to make these people go running for the hills again, he thought.
He found it odd that there was still no military presence in the town, given the recent attacks. Going to The Australian, Finn went straight for the pay phone with a little salute to Dave the barman. He called his parents first, managing to speak to them both. The relief in their voices was palpable, and Finn felt a lump in his throat when he spoke to Sonia.
He then dialled the army hotline and asked to be put through to his base command in the Blue Mountains. They would be able to tell him about the others and where he should report.
A young corporal answered and put him through to a lieutenant in the camp. Finn gave the man his details and explained what had happened to him. The lieutenant listened intently and brought up the operational files.
‘Says here that only four men made it out of that operation alive. You are listed here as MIA, along with Carver,’ said the lieutenant.
‘Carver is dead,’ Finn said immediately, holding his voice steady. ‘I saw him with my own eyes. Who made it out, sir?’
‘Ahh, looks like Sergeant Higgins, Private Samuels, Private Jessop and Corporal Kelly. Although Kelly was injured pretty badly and appears to still be in hospital.’
‘Jesus, Bull. Is he going to be alright?’
‘I can’t tell that from this file, I’m afraid.’
‘So where are the others then? I’d like to rejoin them as soon as I can,’ Finn said.
‘Like most divisions, they’ve been sent down to South Australia to help in the relocation of civilians.’
‘Relocation? What’s going on?’
‘The government has decided that we should leave the Chinese to it and clear out all civilians from the area to avoid any further conflict. We’re letting them have it, mate.’