Every Man for Himself

By Sue Bagust

Then there’s the antipathy between George’s Catholic mother and Mary’s Presbyterian father to their promising romance which is almost as bitter as that between the soldiers of two allied armies in the streets of 1942 Brisbane. George needs to find answers quickly, especially as to what “Every Man For Himself” really means for the diggers trying to get home from Rabaul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Bagust
• Release date: Dec 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463708453

Sue Bagust

Sue Bagust is an author, playwright, advertising copywriter and Reiki therapist/trainer who lives in SE Queensland, Australia, with her husband, cats, dog and a few noisy geckos.. Sue previously published two Reiki workbooks and also writes plays.

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What other readers think of:

EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF

Thoroughly enjoyed reading this sequel to Fly Me Home. Wonderfully written and I am looking forward to reading more of Sue’s books.

Klara Szonner Cheasley

I really enjoyed reading Every Man. It was so well written that I could easily imagine myself right there and imagined myself as one of those young ladies working in the cafe, having sneaky giggles with the other girls till the owners gave that stern look of 'back to work girls'

Rachel Astill

This novel continues on well from Fly Me Home and again is a good story with great characters. Every Man for Himself captures your imagination; you really feel like you’re back in 1942. And there’s a third book coming.

Sharon Jarvis

This book is the second in a series of impeccably-researched stories set in and around wartime Australia. Every Man for Himself follows on seamlessly from where the first book Fly Me Home" leaves off, transporting the reader swiftly and effortlessly between desperate scenes of Australian servicemen escaping the Japanese invasion of Papua New Guinea to the cafes and war-planning backrooms of Brisbane. Interspersed throughout are scenes of family life, romances, petty jealousies and the myriad human interactions that manage to survive, against all odds, despite the looming threat of invasion.

Both books show a wonderful command of the mannerisms, speech patterns and social mores of the period and both skilfully balance everyday suburban life against the violent action of the battlefield, the bureaucratic machinations of planning and coordinating the war effort, and the simmering tensions between US and Australian personnel (Allies notwithstanding!).

In Every Man for Himself, Sue Bagust has once again produced a truly heart-warming story, one which celebrates that wonderful, selfless generation who put everything on the line to ensure that the Last Bastion would never fall. We owe a lot to that generation, and we also owe a great debt to authors who preserve the legacy of those who served, by writing with insight and keen attention to detail about those dark and dangerous times. Sue Bagust has captured the mood and essence of the era with incredible skill and empathy – a thoroughly recommended read."

Geoff Barlow. Goodreads Review

If you’d like to share your thoughts about Every Man For Himself, my email is [e-mail] and I would appreciate your feedback. I do hope that you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF

February – March 1942

Stories of wartime Australia by Sue Bagust

Cover photo: Douglas Smith and Edna Maroske, Australia, 1944

©The moral rights of the author are asserted and all rights reserved except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 (e.g. fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review).

First published August 2020

This edition October 2021

February 1942

"I suppose you realise that your leading division is the only force

that can reach Rangoon in time to prevent its loss"

Cable from Winston Churchill to John Curtin,

20 February, 1942

In February 1942 when Singapore fell and Japan’s invincible military massed to invade New Guinea, Britain’s Prime Minister Churchill vehemently opposed Australian Prime Minister Curtin’s requests to send the Australian Army home from the Middle East to defend Australia. As in World War I, Churchill regarded the armed forces of British Empire countries as his troops to be used wherever Britain decided that the need was greatest. Despite having lost 15,000 men of Australia’s 8th Division at Singapore and with the British defensive strategy for the Pacific in ruins, Churchill was still loath to lose control of Australia’s remaining Divisions. Nevertheless Curtin was adamant and the 7th Division did finally leave the Middle East, but when the troopships reached the Indian Ocean Churchill ordered them to change course to Burma. He then enlisted U.S. President Roosevelt’s support to ‘Beat Hitler First’, and urged Curtin in a flurry of cables to accept Churchill’s unsanctioned redeployment of Australian troops. A diplomatic feud ensued but Curtin insisted that his troops came home, for the first time tilting Australia’s foreign policy towards self-interest rather than blind obedience to major world powers.

Sunday 1st February 1942

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA: The Gresham hotel

George smiled at Gina across the luncheon table. It’s good to see you, Gina. You are definitely my favourite cousin.

If you’ve been spending time with Nigel Alexander or even our mutual cousin Paul, then it’s no wonder I made it to the top of the list, chuckled Gina as she lifted a interrogative eyebrow. You must admit there’s not much competition there!

Although George laughed with her, his laughter was forced and Gina heard. Problems, George? she queried. George nodded, and Gina grinned. I have managed to restrain myself from asking any questions about the consequences arising from Aunt Helen’s lavish Christmas dinner, but it has been a struggle. Did you drop a weight on Nigel and Paul from a great height for stealing your wine?

That’s only one of my problems. Because of Paul’s collusion at Nigel’s Christmas Day prank, I asked my accountant for an informal audit of all my assets. George grimaced as Gina’s eyes widened but he continued, Preliminary enquiries confirm my suspicions that my Trustees find it difficult to differentiate between what’s mine and what’s theirs. Gina gasped as George reluctantly admitted, My accountant strongly recommends a formal audit, to be immediately followed by legal action to terminate the Trust.

Gina considered George’s words before she replied, And that will put the cat among the pigeons for the whole world to see. If this goes public, it could tarnish the Gillespie name and even the Gillespie business. Is that what worries you?

George nodded. Gina thought for a while before asking, Isn’t your mother a Trustee, along with our mutual cousin Paul? What action does your mother recommend?

George shrugged, She insists that Paul is the perfect Trustee and Nigel is just a naughty boy who must be forgiven, because he is family. George emphasized the word ‘family’ bitterly.

Gina raised her eyebrows, He’s an Alexander and not a Gillespie, and that was Gillespie wine, wasn’t it? It was laid down by your father and grandfather, and taken from your cellars without your permission? George nodded and Gina continued bluntly, Aunt Helen is blurring the lines somewhat when it comes to family, but after all she is an Alexander. More importantly, does this mean that she knows about Paul’s shenanigans, and condones them?

I don’t know, answered George honestly. Gina raised her eyebrow interrogatively again so George explained, She definitely knows Paul misappropriated monies, but what I don’t know is whether she chooses to turn a blind eye to Paul’s misdemeanours, or whether Paul is only obeying her orders so she knows very well what monies are missing and why. Gina took a deep breath but before she could speak George continued, She does keep a tight rein on the money, but that could be because she regards our family money as hers. George laughed briefly and bitterly as he amended his words to, I know she regards my private fortune as hers. When we disagree her favourite threat is to cut off my allowance.

Your allowance? questioned Gina. Do you mean that Aunt Helen still gives you pocket money from her own income, like you are a kiddie? Gina frowned, That surprises me, even though she does have difficulty seeing you as an adult.

No, she means the income from my Trust that she and Paul dole out until I turn twenty-five or until I marry, provided that I marry someone they consider suitable, replied George bitterly.

And the woman she would consider suitable would be a meek bride of her choice who would be right under her thumb, exclaimed Gina. George nodded glum agreement.

Gina thought for a moment before she asked, About your Trust money; can Aunt Helen do that? I would have thought that legally she wouldn’t be able to stop payment.

George snorted, Legally she can’t, but that hasn’t stopped her from refusing to sign January’s cheque to bring me to heel.

Gina exclaimed, That is disgraceful!

You should hear my accountant’s opinion on the subject! George laughed. I think you and he share similar views.

Gina laughed reluctantly before she said vehemently, George, you must do something about this. I’m not in favour of washing Gillespie dirty linen in public, but enough is enough. Gina sat silent for a minute, chewing her lip in frustration before she burst out, And in the meantime, you can’t be left without an income. That is monstrous, to try to control you by misusing the inheritance that is yours by right.

George stared at Gina, dumbfounded, as Gina calculated out loud, I have nearly fifty pounds in my current account that you can have immediately. That should solve any pressing problems and I can get that for you this afternoon. No, I can’t. It’s Sunday, so the banks are closed. Can you meet me tomorrow at lunchtime at my bank? If you need more, I’ve got over three thousand pounds in another account, but I can’t get to that before Thursday. It’s a high-interest account so I have to give the bank three days’ notice of withdrawal. Will that be enough to see you through?

George was almost too surprised to profess his appreciation of Gina’s instinctive generosity, Gina, my dear, I am very grateful but that isn’t necessary. I do have money.

Gina raised her eyebrows, Then how can I help? You didn’t just invite me to lunch for the pleasure of my company, did you?

I wish I could say that I did, but I do want something from you, admitted George.

Gina laughed, If you have decided to propose marriage to me to break your Trust, you’ll have to think of another way, George! First, your mother would never approve of me so it would be a waste of time, and second I’m quite happy with my life as it is, thank you!

I hope he’s worthy of you, Gina, teased George mischievously.

Gina blushed and laughed. George realised he had inadvertently guessed one of Gina’s secrets and asked curiously, Do I know him?

Are you asking as my favourite cousin, or as Head of the Family?

George frowned, Does it make a difference?

No, because I’m not telling either of you about him yet, answered Gina coolly. She grinned cheekily and immediately her eyebrow flew up again as she launched a counter-attack. What about you, George? Is there anybody unsuitable that your mother won’t approve hovering on the horizon?

Gina laughed at George’s reaction and immediately demanded, Who is she, George?

George grinned, Her name is Mary and she works in the Tea Cosy. She’s a waitress and a bloody good one too!

George! Does your mother know?

George nodded, grinning. She suspects. She saw us together on New Year’s Eve.

Oh! Poor George! Do you need me to run interference?

That could be fun, but I need more from you.

Gina interrogated him silently with a raised eyebrow and George confessed, I want to change my Will. My current Will leaves everything to my mother, and I no longer trust her to administer my father’s Estate.

Gina was confused, How would that affect me, unless you want me to be Executrix? I’ll do it if you want and I’ll do my best for you, but if you want to leave everything to your Mary I think that Aunt Helen could easily overturn that Will unless you and Mary marry!

George shook his head emphatically, No! Mary is important to me but it’s much too soon to load Mary with that responsibility. However, should anything happen to me I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Mary, and make sure she is looked after.

Gina nodded a quick acquiescence as George hesitated, before he said, I want to leave my Estate to you, Gina. If I survive this war it’s likely that Mary and I will marry and I’ll change my Will then, but in the meantime if I don’t survive I’d prefer that you took charge. You’d do your best for the Gillespie family. I know you would. You are also the only person I can think of who could stand up to mother and our dear cousin Paul.

Gina was astounded, and George grinned cheekily at her. You don’t like either of them, so you’d probably enjoy pulling the rug out from under them, wouldn’t you?

Gina admitted as she laughed, I would! I certainly would! before adding, But I would infinitely prefer to watch you pulling the rug out from under them, George, so stay alive, won’t you?

George nodded, saying through his laughter I’ll do my best. I promise! And not only because you asked me so nicely!

Monday 2 February 1942

WIDE BAY, NEW BRITAIN: Tol Plantation

To hungry men, the smell of roast pork wafting along the jungle path was an irresistible beacon. Steve and Tom, the Corp and Hanrahan walked into a crowd of Australians, both soldiers and civilians, who gathered around open fires where they rested and talked as they roasted meat, swapping reports about Rabaul and their individual stories.

The Corp looked around slowly. As far as he could see everyone appeared to be in the same shape as his men, weary, sick and hungry. Most of the soldiers had lost their rifles and their heavy equipment and they were no longer an effective fighting force.

There were close to one hundred men gathered here, too many to hide even if the smell of the roasting meat wasn’t a dead giveaway. This was a dangerous place to stay if he wanted to avoid capture, but that meat did smell good. He looked closely at his group. They had all lost weight since their escape from Rabaul and were in no condition to walk further tonight, so he decided to chance it and hope the Japanese didn’t find them in the meantime. The Corp told his group to rest and to gather what information they could. The water tanker drivers were well known in Rabaul and individuals were hailed by men they knew from their delivery routes.

They moved off to eat with their mates only coming together later to swap stories. Hanrahan had gathered information about the fall of Rabaul and what he saw as the incompetence of their leadership, including what had happened to Mustard, the ‘keen as’ warrant officer who had posted them to guard an empty plantation. Mustard had posted different groups of men to different spots outside Rabaul, ostensibly to guard vital war equipment which meant that these disparate groups were not caught up in the slaughter. Many of these men were here today because they were part of Mustard’s manoeuvres. Steve eyed Hanrahan sourly as Hanrahan speculated on Mustard’s motives, but it was the Corp who said, That’s interesting, but not much use to us now.

Yep, agreed Steve. Rabaul is yesterday’s news. Today, this is Tol Plantation. It’s been abandoned since last December. Since the Australian settlers repatriated home, this whole coast is chockers with deserted copra plantations and their New Guinea indentured labourers all trying to get home, just like us.

The Corp contributed his news, The officers will send out scrounging parties tomorrow. We’ve all had a good feed today, but we will need a lot more to keep this mob fed.

Hanrahan immediately offered, There should be storehouses at every plantation. I can take off at first light tomorrow to check out the next plantation.

Good idea, approved the Corp, before he looked at Tom.

Tom hesitated before speaking. I don’t know if this is useful or whether I’m dreaming but … Tom hesitated again and looked from one to the other, I reckon it’s worth a shot. I know food is the first priority, but if this works it could be our ticket out of here.

If what works? asked Corp at the same time as Steve said, Spit it out, mate.

I heard about a boat. There was a sudden stillness as everyone considered Tom’s words and how their chances of escape would improve immeasurably with a boat before they all looked to the south west, where New Guinea and beyond that Australia waited for all of them. Tom continued quickly, Two bays along the coast, the owner holed his boat and sank it before he left. I thought I could go and check it out.

But if it’s been holed and sunk, what use is it? said Hanrahan. Do we push it along the bottom of the ocean?

No, but if the owner was in a hurry he may not have done a good job. We may be able to fix it. We could fix the engine even if it’s waterlogged.

Steve immediately agreed, We’re all good at fixing truck engines, we’ve had to be. Marine engines shouldn’t be much different.

They all nodded agreement, excited by the possibility of getting their hands on a working boat. Tom looked from one to another, before he added, I told the bloke who told me about the boat he could come with us if we get it going, and he wants to bring his mate. That will make six of us, so even if it is a dinghy we should all fit. If it’s bigger, we can pack in a couple more.

Suddenly the Corp felt far more cheerful about their chances. They had full bellies for the first time in days, they may find more food tomorrow, and they may find a boat that they could repair. Their chances of survival were now a lot better than when they walked into Tol Plantation.

The Corp looked around the camp, then at his fellow drivers. If they all went to check out the boat, they could get away from here. He had a prickling at the back of his neck about Tol Plantation. He didn’t know why, he just knew he wanted to get away but the morning would be soon enough so he grinned at his colleagues and said, Tom, rouse your new best friends at first light, will you. I want to get away from here and check out that boat, before everyone hears about it.

Tuesday 3 February 1942

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA: Mrs. Collins’ Boarding House

They are welcome, but … Mrs. Collins said hesitantly.

What’s the problem, Mrs. Collins? queried George. I can vouch for them. I’m related to Harry Baxter somewhere on the family tree, and his family needs a place to stay while he’s away. Which reminds me; I’m going away too later this week which means that I won’t be around to help them settle in, but I know that they will be comfortable here with you.

Mrs. Collins was still hesitant and George queried sharply, You do have two rooms free in the girls’ zone? Mrs. Collins nodded reluctantly. What’s the problem, Mrs. Collins? repeated George.

What are they going to do? Mrs. Collins asked.

Do? queried George blankly. What do you mean, do?

Mrs. Collins sighed. George was a clever boy, always had been, but like all men he didn’t think past A and B to get to the logical C. She chose her words carefully, I’m very glad that they escaped from New Britain, but Mrs. Baxter and Bernie have been used to living on a plantation.

Yes, agreed George.

Plenty of space to move around, plenty of things to do every day? asked Mrs. Collins.

I imagine so, agreed George, but more sharply.

Then I don’t think that living in two rooms in my boarding house will replace that. Don’t forget they will be here all day alone when all my other boarders go to work.

George nodded reluctantly, You’re right, of course you’re right, but now the first thing they need is somewhere to stay. If I can think of anything else, he paused and looked hopefully at Mrs. Collins, Or if you can think of anything else?

Not me, said Mrs. Collins quickly. I’m no brain. Mrs. Collins looked at George’s glum face and offered reluctantly, But I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know. George smiled at Mrs. Collins who couldn’t help smiling back at him, even though she couldn’t see how she was going to help a lonely wife and a teenage girl settle into living happily in two rooms of her suburban boarding house after the freedom of a tropical plantation.

Mrs. Collins sighed. It was time to go to bed and get some sleep, but tomorrow she would definitely make time to find out more about the Baxter family, to find something that would interest them while they were guests in her home. Maybe the Baxter women were knitters? All the local churches organised soldier comforts like knitting socks. She would take them to church this weekend, in an effort to help them settle in Brisbane. Mrs. Collins sighed again as she acknowledged that she would need something more engrossing to offer than knitting socks, especially for a teenage girl, and Mrs. Baxter looked like she was an anxious woman even without the added strain of her husband’s absence. She could just be a perfect fit for the Church Ladies Society which would be nice for Mrs. Baxter, but did Mrs. Collins really want one of the Church Ladies living under her roof? Mrs. Collins may find herself being conscripted into many more activities than she wanted, or could comfortably handle.

Upstairs Bernie’s thoughts echoed Mrs. Collins. Bernie knew that she could settle to life in a boarding house, she was used to the boredom of community life at boarding school, but how was her mother going to cope in these restricted conditions? Mother was used to a busy day organising a houseful of workers while Dad was out managing the plantation. There wasn’t just the house; Mrs. Baxter also took on the welfare of all the workers and their families as well as her active involvement in the church and the tennis club. She enjoyed being busy and organising other people.

Bernie resolved to do her best to find out more about what sub-tropical Brisbane had to offer. Surely in a city the size of Brisbane there would be some activity that would interest her mother? Without her father around to moderate her mother’s managing nature, Bernie needed to find some activity that would keep her mother amused so that Bernie could make a life of her own. From what Bernie had seen so far, this war’s silver lining would have to be the number and variety of jobs now open to women.

Bernie wondered what Rosemary and Anne did during the day. If their work was interesting maybe she could ask them if there was a vacancy where they worked? All Bernie needed was to find some activity to absorb Mrs. Baxter’s attention, then Bernie could pursue the freedom she craved.

While Bernie worried about her mother, Mrs. Baxter worried about Bernie. Bernie was an intelligent, educated teenager, which meant that Bernie had a distressing tendency to think for herself. Mrs. Baxter wanted Bernie to be happy, of course she did, but why couldn’t Bernie be happy keeping her mother company, especially now that Harry Baxter was away? She had to find some interesting activity that she and Bernie could do together, where Bernie would be entertained but still under her mother’s watchful eye. Maybe Mrs. Collins would know