2025-07-16, 12:14 PM
In the summer of early 1918, as a great war raged in Europe, and citizens of the Empire struggled with the sacrifices being made for the greater good, life on the shores of Thompson Lake went on, much as it had done for the hundred or so years since it had first begun.
On the lone dirt street that led in and out of the town, a row of merchants still plied their trade. There was a general store, a butcher, two publicans, a pharmacist and a baker all catering to the basic needs of the small population that called Thompsonville home. There were other establishments as well, like the tea house, which looked out over the smooth waters of the lake, the newspaper, which kept the locals informed with both news and gossip, and others also, some of which the good, god-fearing folks of this place dared not acknowledge.
There was also a school, and a church, and a village green, near to the shores of the lake. Life was simple, and life was good… for most people at least…and yet even though the townsfolk wanted for very little, they had not been left untouched by the events occurring across the globe.
That was because there were husbands and sons and brothers who were still fighting for the cause, trying to ensure the freedom of the citizens of the British Empire and prevent the Kaiser from overrunning all of Europe.
This task had taken its toll, and there were many from these fair shores who would never return, having paid the ultimate sacrifice for King and country, forever to remain entombed in foreign soil, and leaving their families back home forever grieving their loss.
For the younger generation of boys, especially those teenagers nearing that certain age where they were able to go off to fight, they lived in a strange world, a twilight world of mixed emotions. For most, they were filled excitement and were actually looking forward to the challenge, desperately wanting to take their chance and don the uniform, to do their bit. Indeed, there were those who were so keen for adventure that they changed their ages and stepped up to serve anyhow; yet even for these adventurous souls there were still thoughts in the back of their minds which sowed doubts. Would they ever return? Would their sweethearts wait for them? Would the war even last long enough for them to get to see some action?
And then there were those who dreaded the thought of it all. They had heard all the stories about the horrors of war, relayed to them through the local newspaper. The stories about the deaths, the maimings, the sickness, the living hell that the soldiers were made to endure … or at least those lucky enough to have survived to be able to tell the tale of how they endured it all… they had heard it all. Just as they had heard of places such as Gallipolli and Flanders and The Somme, and what happened there. They knew that war was a killer, and that only pain and heartbreak could come from it, yet even though they may not have liked the thought of it, they knew they would have to go if called upon, for that was what simply had to be done.
And it was especially so for two such sons of Thompsonville.
* * *
‘But Jack, you know that it’s expected of us all… I don’t really have a choice. You know that,’ one boy said to the other.
‘But that’s just it, Davy… you do have a choice!’ his companion replied. ‘We could always go up river somewhere, right away from it all.’
‘You know I couldn’t do that,’ Davy replied. ‘There is a job that needs to be done… I will have to go… I need to go.’
‘Yes, I know, Davy,’ the other boy sighed. ‘But that doesn’t mean I have to like it,’
They were lazing by a creek which fed into the Thompson River, well upstream from the township and far from prying eyes. It was a place that was special to them both, a place where they could retreat from the world around them, where they could simply be themselves, without fear of discovery or persecution.
Above them the lazy branches of a lush willow cast a cooling shade, sheltering them from the summer sun with its lazy branches drooping down to the water’s edge, creating a hidden den. Beyond the veil of green that protected their secret there was a languid waterhole, deep and clear, where the two young neighbours had swum and played for half of their young lives, and into which they could often be found divingand frolicking, naked and free, while filling the air with the sound of youthful laughter.
It was a place that Davy Thompson, the older of the two, had discovered as a boy, and so it followed that his faithful younger sidekick, Jack Henderson, from the neighbouring dairy farm, would also be introduced to its beauty.
Its location was their secret, and as they grew from the cheeky pre-pubescent boys that they had been when they had first met, into the strapping and handsome lads they were now, it had been the first of many secrets they would share in this world.
But now that world was changing, as Davy’s eighteenth birthday approached. It was a promise he had made to his parents… that he wouldn’t enlist until after that day … and it was a promise he was going to keep. After that date the tall and handsome, dark haired farm boy would pledge himself to King and country, at least for the duration of thisGreat War which was being fought. After that date he would pull on a uniform and be sent to far off places, first to be trained to fight, and then to be thrust into battle, not knowing if he would live or die, not knowing if he would ever see the boy he loved again.
‘But aren’t you scared?’ Jack asked his partner, as he gazed up into the handsome face.
They were in their shady nook, both naked after having enjoyed a morning swim to wash away the sweat and dirt of their earlier farm work. Davy leaned back against the trunk of a tree, while cradling the head of Jack in his lap, looking down upon the muscular figure, hard from his years of growing up and working on the farm, and gently running his hand through the other boy’s light brown hair.
‘I’m scared like I have never been before, my love. But it is something that must still be done.’
‘They say the war shall be over soon anyhow, so perhaps you won’t have to fight after all? Perhaps it will be over even before your birthday… and then it won’t even matter.’
‘Or perhaps it will go on for another four years…’ Davy sighed.
‘Please don’t say that… I couldn’t bear to not see you for …’ Jack began to say.
‘Sshhhh…’ Davy said, trying to reassure the other. ‘I’ll wager that it’ll be over before the year is out. You just wait and see.’
‘And then you’ll come home to me?’
‘I promise, my love,’ Davy replied, before leaning down and placing his lips upon those of Jack, just as he had been doing, whenever they were alone, for almost four years now.
It had all started innocently enough. At that time the two boys had been friends for more than five years, having lived on neighbouring farms. A friendship had been quick to form, and as the two boys grew older, that bond only grew stronger.
One day, however, while they were skinny dipping at their favourite place, on the creek that ran between the two farms, something happened to change things. Something that hadn’t happened before.
As Davy emerged from the water, his friend noticed that Davy was hard. His lithe body, tanned and firm from their daily work, had shone in the morning sun as they swam and played.They had been wrestling in the water and Jack had thought he had felt something firm brush against him, but hadn’t been sure. Now he knew what that was, and that thought began to excite him in a way that he hadn’t been excited before. He too was hard. He could feel it without even having the need to look down at himself, or to touch himself, which was what he most often did at night when alone in his bed and images of his friend would constantly dance in his head.
Emboldened by the thought that he wasn’t the only one, he followed his friend from the water and into the shade of their tree. The thirteen and fourteen year old boys looked each other up and down, then smiled.
Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said.
As they came closer together, it was as if each seemed to know just what the other was thinking.
* * *
The town of Thompsonville was built upon the availability of the precious natural resources that were in abundance around it.
There was the timber that came from the upper reaches of the Thompson River, which was floated downstream to the mill that had been established by old Cecil Thompson, Davy’s great-uncle, on the northern edge of the lake.
There were thehandful of small dairy farms on the lush rolling hills to the north of the town, which supplied milk not only to Thompsonville, but also to the nearby township of Macquarie Harbour, which was itself rapidly expanding, even in these troubled times.
And there was also a small fleet of fishing boats, which used the beautiful and sheltered waters of the natural harbor as their base.
It was the family of Davy Thompson who had first settled the area. His great-grandfather, to be precise, settling upon the lake when there was nothing but scrubland and natives, and so it wasn’t surprising that the area became so named.
Soon afterwards more family members arrived, once news of Cecil’s good fortune began to spread, and so it wasn’t long before land was cleared, buildings went up, and a settlement began to emerge.
As the years passed the small town continued to grow. Others came and went, but the Thompsons remained. Or at least most of them did.
That was when the timber mill and the dairy farms came into existence, which required workers to manage them. Pretty soon the hovels that had been built by the original Thompson settlers were replaced by neat and tidy cottages and shops, and the beginnings of a real town on the shores of Thompson Lake began to take shape.
Of course it wasn’t always smooth sailing for the struggling township, with fire and flood making themselves known from time to time, just to ensure that the locals stayed wary of mother nature, but by and large things were good, and the town was continuing to grow.
By 1918 the town was a quaint little settlement, but one that was thriving, at least when compared to those early years. The needs of the townsfolk were well catered for, despite the war going on in Europe, and apart from the fact that there was a shortage of younger men, as most of these were off fighting, there was little evidence of that eventhaving any major effect onthe lives of the residents. Everybody was doing the best they could, and life went on.
* * *
It was in March of that year when Davy Thompson came of age, celebrating his eighteenth birthday, and thus becoming old enough to be able to fight – and die if need be – for his country. While others of his age may have changed their dates of birth to be able to go earlier, Davy had resisted any pressures applied to do so, and he had good reason to.
Firstly there was the fact that he was in love, although nobody but his lover knew of this for sure (even if some may have had their suspicions); then there was also the fact that he was an only child, and with aging parents he knew that they would struggle with the farm on their own, so his desire was to stay and help for as long as he possibly could. He had even asked Jack to look in on them and help them out if the need arose, to which Jack willingly agreed, but secretly hoped he wouldn’t have to, as he was sure that sooner or later he would let slip something of his true feelings for their son.
As the weeks to Davy’s birthday were counted down the pressure being applied to him to enlist and be a man began to mount, even though there had never been any doubt in his own mind that he would be going. Conscription had been on the mind of the entire country in recent years, with two separate referendums on the topic being held, and with the Australian people twice voting against its introduction.
This didn’t stop some people from pushing that barrow, however, and one such person to constantly remind the local lads that they should be doing their duty was the postmaster, old man Simpkins. He personally saw to it, as he would deliver the mail to outlying areas in the old fashioned way, using his pinto pony and buggy, despite the fact that those newfangled motor cars were now a common sight around Thomsponville. He saw to it that leaflets promoting enlistment were handed to every eligible young man in the district, especially those he knew to be approaching the age of eighteen.He saw it as his duty to tell all of the young men of Thompsonville that they should be heading off to war, and neither Davy nor Jack could escape his haranguing of them, even though he knew that it would be almost a full year before Jack came of age.
‘They can have you when you’re eighteen, and not a day sooner,’Davy’s father gravely swore, while Davy’s mother could only nod in agreement.
For Davy that meant he had just a few weeks grace, a few more weeks that he could spend in the company of Jack, and he had full intentions of making the most of that opportunity.
When his father complained of the amount of time he had spent with his friend he gently reminded him that they may never see each other again.
‘And what of your parents? Might you also never seen them again?’ his father had asked.
‘But father, I see you and mother first thing every morning. I work beside you every day, while mother prepares lunch for us each day. And I see you every night. Is it so terrible a request, before I must leave and head off to face whatever it is that my fate is, to spend some time with the one other person in this worldabout whom I care almost equally?’
His father looked down his long nose at his son, studying him carefully. For a long time neither Thompson man spoke
‘No, I guess not, lad, if that’s how you feel,’ the elder man eventually said, while wistfully recalling his own youth. It seemed the Thompson blood was strong in this boy, he thought.
* * *
When the date of Davy’s birthday finally arrived, March twelfth, there was little to celebrate, and these three Thompsons all knew it.
As they did every morning they rose and went about their daily business, pausing only briefly to wish their son a happy day and present him with his gift, a new safety razor with an ivory handle, to mark his becoming a man, before all three carried on with their morning chores.
It wasn’t until they had gathered for breakfast, some while later, that Davy took down the dreaded leaflet from the mantelpiece above the stove, where it had been sat not long after it had arrived.
Davy read it again, even though he knew every word upon it by heart.
‘Are you sure you want to do this, Davy?’ his mother asked him.
He looked up at his parents, who both expressions of worry. Slowly he nodded.
‘I have to,’ he said to them. ‘We must all do our bit.’
‘And what of your friend, Jack? Will he do his bit?’ his father asked.
‘He has almost a year before he needs to decide that. I know he hates war, but if he has to go he will. In the meantime he’ll still be doing his bit here… I’ve asked him to help you, if you need it, and he has agreed.’
‘That’s very sweet of him, Davy. With any luck the war will be over by the time he needs to consider going,’ his mother added.
‘That’s what I’ve been telling him,’ Davy remarked, before looking down at the leaflet once more.
As the emotion welled up inside him he thought he was in control of himself, that he was able to disguise the genuine fear that he was now beginning to feel, but his parents both saw the trembling hands with which he held the leaflet. They said nothing, though, for they knew his mind was made.
‘Mr Simpkins said I am to report to the barracks in Macquarie Harbor, just as soon as I am able following my birthday,’ he said to his concerned parents.
‘Well, boy, we knew this day would come,’ his father said. ‘We may not like it, but we know you’ll do us all proud, son.’
‘Yes, papa,’ Davy replied. ‘I will.’
‘It is quite a trip from here. We will leave in the morning,’ his father stated. ‘I suppose you must visit your friend to let him know.’
‘Yes, I should,’ Davy responded, as he tried to think of just how he would be able to break the news to Jack, the boy who was more than just his friend… he was also his brother… his lover… his everything, and he knew it was going to break both their hearts to be apart.
After breakfast, Davy set out across the paddocks on horseback in the direction of the Henderson farm. He didn’t think that Jack would be down by the creek, so he rode for their home instead, wading through the creek at the shallow crossing well downstream from their swimming hole and then cantering along the well-worn track toward where the small timber cottage was situated on a lush green hill, and surrounded by Jacaranda trees, with their beautiful purple flowers, and silky oaks.
In his own mind he had rehearsed over and over what it was he was going to say, but when he found Jack waiting for him at the gate into the yard around the house, there were no words that came to mind.
The two boys looked at each other glumly. There was nothing that could be said. They both knew that this was it.
‘You’ve made up your mind, then?’ Jack eventually managed to ask, as Davy climbed down from the back of his mare, nodding, though not wanting to say anything lest he lose his self-control.
Jack had known what was coming. They had discussed it often, and even though theyhad disagreed, he had still expected this news. He had even discussed it with his own parents and theyall agreed that Davy must make up his own mind. All that considered, it didn’t make the likely news any easier to swallow.
‘W-w-where are your parents?’ Davy cautiously asked.
‘Gone into the town,’ answered Jack. ‘They will be there for much of the day. What are your plans?’
‘I am to report to the barracks in Macquarie Harbour, just as soon after my birthday as practicable,’ Davy gloomily replied. ‘We shall be leaving in the morning.’
‘Just like that?’
‘It seems so. I’ll come back to see you again before I have to leave, I promise.’
‘You had better… or I shall never talk to you again,’ Jack declared, pouting slightly.
‘I promise,’ Davy said gravely, before taking Jack in his arms and burying his face against the younger boy’s neck.
The two boys spent much of that day together, not knowing if it might be the last time they are able to do so. Neither said anything about the immediate future, they were living in the here and now, and as they slowly undressed each other that afternoon, in the small nook off the back verandah that Jack called his room, drinking in the sight of each other’s nakedness, their only thoughts were on loving the other in a way they hadn’t done so before; perhaps for the first and last time.
* * *
As they lay together afterwards, Davy said, ‘At least you’ll still be here, all safe and sound,’
‘That may be true, but that will only be until the end of the year… until my own …’
‘Sshhh… It’ll all be over by then. I’m sure.’
‘How can you say that?’ Jack despaired. ‘You don’t know that… the war could go on for years yet. And if I don’t go, then I shall be shunned by everyone. I’ve heard of men even being beaten up for not going.’
‘We have to have some faith, my love. We have to trust that sooner or later it will all end… and when it does, we shall be together again… I promise you. I make this vow to you that I will return and we shall meet at that favourite place of ours, where our love will once again be able to flourish.’
Jack wished he could have the confidence that Davy had, but he knew there was no use in pointing out the obvious… that there was no way that Davy could make such promises as those he had made today. He knew that Davy would be clinging to the hope offered by those promises just as much as he would himself, so in return he promised himself that he wouldn’t say anything.
A short time later, as Davy rode away, heading for his home after sharing one last kiss across the back gate, Jack could only watch, his heart breaking, tears making their way down his face, as he wondered if this would be the final time he would ever see his love.
For Davy too, the tears were flowing, but he dared not look back. The sight of Jack that he wanted to carry with him into the months ahead was not that of a tearful boy, but that of a beautiful young man, firm and strong and loving. What he wanted to rememberwas the sight and scent of his youthful body, the feel of his lover as Jack enteredhim for that first time, and the expression on his face as he reached that climactic moment. It was a wonderful experience … however anyone could say something that beautiful was a sin he had no idea… and he felt certain that it would be the memory of this afternoonthat would be what would sustain him over the dangerous months to come.
When he reached his own home, after taking some time at the creek crossing to recover himself and wash the tears from his face, Davy was ready to face his own future, whatever that may be. His mother watched him from the verandah of their home, leaning against a post with her arms crossed in front of her and looking concerned, as he unsaddled his horse and then let her out into the small paddock where she was kept.
He wasn’t sure where his father was, but he fully expected to receive some sort of a tongue lashing for having been away for the best part of the day and neglecting his duties. When his father emerged from the shed moments later he was rather surprised that nothing was said, other than his asking after Jack.
‘Do they know of our love?’ he fearfully wondered.
‘How did he take the news?’ Davy’s father enquired.
‘We all knew it was coming,’ Davy replied. ‘I am sure that Jack will survive without me,’ he added, with just a hint of a smile on his face and in his voice.
‘Ahhh, yes, but will you survive without him?’ his father asked, while slapping his son on the back, before heading toward the house, and leaving Davy staring at his back.
* * *
Several weeks after Davy had gone, leaving Jack heartbroken after he hadn’t even returned to say goodbye, Jack received a letter. He knew the hand of the writer, perhaps better than that of anyone else in the world, and when his mother handed it to him that night, after he had come in from doing his chores, his heart skipped a beat, while at the same time he felt the blood drain from his face.
‘If you like, take it to your room to read,’ his mother had said, and for the first time he knew that someone else had some idea of his feelings for Davy. He looked at her inquisitively, as if trying to read her thoughts. ‘It’s all right, dear. I understand,’ she added, while briefly holding her son’s hands in hers, before then shooing him away with her hands.
Suddenly free of the fear he had secretly harboured for years, Jack kissed her on the cheek, then took off for his room, eagerly ripping the envelope open and finding not only a letter, but also a sepia toned photograph of a handsome young soldier in uniform, complete with his slouch hat and Enfield rifle.
Those two items would be what would sustain Jack for many months to come.
Dearest Jack,
I hope this finds you well, and that you have forgiven me my abrupt departure, without having said a proper goodbye? You will talk to me again, won’t you?
Things moved so fast after seeing the enlistment people in Macquarie Harbour and I’m afraid that I was unable to even return home. I hope that mother and father had let you know of that?
Unfortunately I cannot say where I am right now, apparently regulations forbid it, but rest assured I am still in our own country, for the time being at least. It is hot and dry where we are, and our regiment is training very hard. They are a companionable bunch, all from around Macquarie Harbour and towns such as ours, and so that makes it a little easier when I start to miss all my family and friends from home, as I know that they are feeling much the same.
When I feel particularly down in the mouth I only have to think about that place on the creek and all the fun that we had there whilst growing up. Such thoughts of home, of what we did and what we shall do again, shall be what I will carry with me throughout this journey, and into whatever battles I may face, and that is what will sustain me in the months, or even years, ahead.
The officers say we can expect to be going to Europe, but just where in Europe, or when, we do not know. It is all something of a guessing game, and some of the lads have started a book. My money, what little of it I have, is wagered on France, but we will just have to wait and see.
I must go now. Please be sure to give my fondest regards to your parents and our friends. I am counting the days until I can see the smiling faces of all those I love so much, the shores of our lake and our small town once again.
Sincerely yours,
David Thompson
Jack read it, and read it again.
To him, the letter seemed somewhat formal and even a little impersonal, not what you would expect to see written between two people in love, and at first he was a little disappointed. But then, as he thought it over, he realised that it was foolish of him to have expected anything different. Davy had said that he couldn’t say where they currently were, which to Jack at least, meant that the mail was likely being watched by the army, and if that was the case, then how could Davy say anything about loving him, or about what they were both wanting, or about what their future might hold.
When he re-read through it he focused on the paragraph which mentioned the fun they had had, and the fun they would have again. Then he read the final sentence once more… I am counting the days until I can see the smiling faces of all those I love so much.
That gave him hope, and for now at least, that was enough.
* * *
In the months that followed, thoughts of Davy were constantly on Jack’s mind. There had only been one more letter after that first one, within which Davy told Jack that they were about to be shipped out, but he still knew nothing of to where.
After that, there was nothing more.
With each passing week Jack was becoming more and more anxious, and being starved of any news or information regarding Davy, Jack took to visiting his lover’s parents, pestering them for any news they may have had, but they too had scarcely heard from their son.
He had promised Davy that he would look in on them anyhow, and help out wherever may be needed, and was only too pleased to honour that promise, especially if there was the hope of hearing some news… any news, of his love. He toiled in the paddocks beside Davy’s father, often ate meals with them, and got to know them in a way that he had never expected.
From the time Davy had left them all, which had been many months ago now, summer had given way to autumn, which had in turn given way to winter; a particularly wild winter which saw the coastal areas being lashed by storms. By the time spring had arrived, for which they were all extremely grateful, so too had news of losses on the battle front, and in particular those suffered by the regiments that had originated from Macquarie Harbour and surrounds.
On the lone dirt street that led in and out of the town, a row of merchants still plied their trade. There was a general store, a butcher, two publicans, a pharmacist and a baker all catering to the basic needs of the small population that called Thompsonville home. There were other establishments as well, like the tea house, which looked out over the smooth waters of the lake, the newspaper, which kept the locals informed with both news and gossip, and others also, some of which the good, god-fearing folks of this place dared not acknowledge.
There was also a school, and a church, and a village green, near to the shores of the lake. Life was simple, and life was good… for most people at least…and yet even though the townsfolk wanted for very little, they had not been left untouched by the events occurring across the globe.
That was because there were husbands and sons and brothers who were still fighting for the cause, trying to ensure the freedom of the citizens of the British Empire and prevent the Kaiser from overrunning all of Europe.
This task had taken its toll, and there were many from these fair shores who would never return, having paid the ultimate sacrifice for King and country, forever to remain entombed in foreign soil, and leaving their families back home forever grieving their loss.
For the younger generation of boys, especially those teenagers nearing that certain age where they were able to go off to fight, they lived in a strange world, a twilight world of mixed emotions. For most, they were filled excitement and were actually looking forward to the challenge, desperately wanting to take their chance and don the uniform, to do their bit. Indeed, there were those who were so keen for adventure that they changed their ages and stepped up to serve anyhow; yet even for these adventurous souls there were still thoughts in the back of their minds which sowed doubts. Would they ever return? Would their sweethearts wait for them? Would the war even last long enough for them to get to see some action?
And then there were those who dreaded the thought of it all. They had heard all the stories about the horrors of war, relayed to them through the local newspaper. The stories about the deaths, the maimings, the sickness, the living hell that the soldiers were made to endure … or at least those lucky enough to have survived to be able to tell the tale of how they endured it all… they had heard it all. Just as they had heard of places such as Gallipolli and Flanders and The Somme, and what happened there. They knew that war was a killer, and that only pain and heartbreak could come from it, yet even though they may not have liked the thought of it, they knew they would have to go if called upon, for that was what simply had to be done.
And it was especially so for two such sons of Thompsonville.
* * *
‘But Jack, you know that it’s expected of us all… I don’t really have a choice. You know that,’ one boy said to the other.
‘But that’s just it, Davy… you do have a choice!’ his companion replied. ‘We could always go up river somewhere, right away from it all.’
‘You know I couldn’t do that,’ Davy replied. ‘There is a job that needs to be done… I will have to go… I need to go.’
‘Yes, I know, Davy,’ the other boy sighed. ‘But that doesn’t mean I have to like it,’
They were lazing by a creek which fed into the Thompson River, well upstream from the township and far from prying eyes. It was a place that was special to them both, a place where they could retreat from the world around them, where they could simply be themselves, without fear of discovery or persecution.
Above them the lazy branches of a lush willow cast a cooling shade, sheltering them from the summer sun with its lazy branches drooping down to the water’s edge, creating a hidden den. Beyond the veil of green that protected their secret there was a languid waterhole, deep and clear, where the two young neighbours had swum and played for half of their young lives, and into which they could often be found divingand frolicking, naked and free, while filling the air with the sound of youthful laughter.
It was a place that Davy Thompson, the older of the two, had discovered as a boy, and so it followed that his faithful younger sidekick, Jack Henderson, from the neighbouring dairy farm, would also be introduced to its beauty.
Its location was their secret, and as they grew from the cheeky pre-pubescent boys that they had been when they had first met, into the strapping and handsome lads they were now, it had been the first of many secrets they would share in this world.
But now that world was changing, as Davy’s eighteenth birthday approached. It was a promise he had made to his parents… that he wouldn’t enlist until after that day … and it was a promise he was going to keep. After that date the tall and handsome, dark haired farm boy would pledge himself to King and country, at least for the duration of thisGreat War which was being fought. After that date he would pull on a uniform and be sent to far off places, first to be trained to fight, and then to be thrust into battle, not knowing if he would live or die, not knowing if he would ever see the boy he loved again.
‘But aren’t you scared?’ Jack asked his partner, as he gazed up into the handsome face.
They were in their shady nook, both naked after having enjoyed a morning swim to wash away the sweat and dirt of their earlier farm work. Davy leaned back against the trunk of a tree, while cradling the head of Jack in his lap, looking down upon the muscular figure, hard from his years of growing up and working on the farm, and gently running his hand through the other boy’s light brown hair.
‘I’m scared like I have never been before, my love. But it is something that must still be done.’
‘They say the war shall be over soon anyhow, so perhaps you won’t have to fight after all? Perhaps it will be over even before your birthday… and then it won’t even matter.’
‘Or perhaps it will go on for another four years…’ Davy sighed.
‘Please don’t say that… I couldn’t bear to not see you for …’ Jack began to say.
‘Sshhhh…’ Davy said, trying to reassure the other. ‘I’ll wager that it’ll be over before the year is out. You just wait and see.’
‘And then you’ll come home to me?’
‘I promise, my love,’ Davy replied, before leaning down and placing his lips upon those of Jack, just as he had been doing, whenever they were alone, for almost four years now.
It had all started innocently enough. At that time the two boys had been friends for more than five years, having lived on neighbouring farms. A friendship had been quick to form, and as the two boys grew older, that bond only grew stronger.
One day, however, while they were skinny dipping at their favourite place, on the creek that ran between the two farms, something happened to change things. Something that hadn’t happened before.
As Davy emerged from the water, his friend noticed that Davy was hard. His lithe body, tanned and firm from their daily work, had shone in the morning sun as they swam and played.They had been wrestling in the water and Jack had thought he had felt something firm brush against him, but hadn’t been sure. Now he knew what that was, and that thought began to excite him in a way that he hadn’t been excited before. He too was hard. He could feel it without even having the need to look down at himself, or to touch himself, which was what he most often did at night when alone in his bed and images of his friend would constantly dance in his head.
Emboldened by the thought that he wasn’t the only one, he followed his friend from the water and into the shade of their tree. The thirteen and fourteen year old boys looked each other up and down, then smiled.
Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said.
As they came closer together, it was as if each seemed to know just what the other was thinking.
* * *
The town of Thompsonville was built upon the availability of the precious natural resources that were in abundance around it.
There was the timber that came from the upper reaches of the Thompson River, which was floated downstream to the mill that had been established by old Cecil Thompson, Davy’s great-uncle, on the northern edge of the lake.
There were thehandful of small dairy farms on the lush rolling hills to the north of the town, which supplied milk not only to Thompsonville, but also to the nearby township of Macquarie Harbour, which was itself rapidly expanding, even in these troubled times.
And there was also a small fleet of fishing boats, which used the beautiful and sheltered waters of the natural harbor as their base.
It was the family of Davy Thompson who had first settled the area. His great-grandfather, to be precise, settling upon the lake when there was nothing but scrubland and natives, and so it wasn’t surprising that the area became so named.
Soon afterwards more family members arrived, once news of Cecil’s good fortune began to spread, and so it wasn’t long before land was cleared, buildings went up, and a settlement began to emerge.
As the years passed the small town continued to grow. Others came and went, but the Thompsons remained. Or at least most of them did.
That was when the timber mill and the dairy farms came into existence, which required workers to manage them. Pretty soon the hovels that had been built by the original Thompson settlers were replaced by neat and tidy cottages and shops, and the beginnings of a real town on the shores of Thompson Lake began to take shape.
Of course it wasn’t always smooth sailing for the struggling township, with fire and flood making themselves known from time to time, just to ensure that the locals stayed wary of mother nature, but by and large things were good, and the town was continuing to grow.
By 1918 the town was a quaint little settlement, but one that was thriving, at least when compared to those early years. The needs of the townsfolk were well catered for, despite the war going on in Europe, and apart from the fact that there was a shortage of younger men, as most of these were off fighting, there was little evidence of that eventhaving any major effect onthe lives of the residents. Everybody was doing the best they could, and life went on.
* * *
It was in March of that year when Davy Thompson came of age, celebrating his eighteenth birthday, and thus becoming old enough to be able to fight – and die if need be – for his country. While others of his age may have changed their dates of birth to be able to go earlier, Davy had resisted any pressures applied to do so, and he had good reason to.
Firstly there was the fact that he was in love, although nobody but his lover knew of this for sure (even if some may have had their suspicions); then there was also the fact that he was an only child, and with aging parents he knew that they would struggle with the farm on their own, so his desire was to stay and help for as long as he possibly could. He had even asked Jack to look in on them and help them out if the need arose, to which Jack willingly agreed, but secretly hoped he wouldn’t have to, as he was sure that sooner or later he would let slip something of his true feelings for their son.
As the weeks to Davy’s birthday were counted down the pressure being applied to him to enlist and be a man began to mount, even though there had never been any doubt in his own mind that he would be going. Conscription had been on the mind of the entire country in recent years, with two separate referendums on the topic being held, and with the Australian people twice voting against its introduction.
This didn’t stop some people from pushing that barrow, however, and one such person to constantly remind the local lads that they should be doing their duty was the postmaster, old man Simpkins. He personally saw to it, as he would deliver the mail to outlying areas in the old fashioned way, using his pinto pony and buggy, despite the fact that those newfangled motor cars were now a common sight around Thomsponville. He saw to it that leaflets promoting enlistment were handed to every eligible young man in the district, especially those he knew to be approaching the age of eighteen.He saw it as his duty to tell all of the young men of Thompsonville that they should be heading off to war, and neither Davy nor Jack could escape his haranguing of them, even though he knew that it would be almost a full year before Jack came of age.
‘They can have you when you’re eighteen, and not a day sooner,’Davy’s father gravely swore, while Davy’s mother could only nod in agreement.
For Davy that meant he had just a few weeks grace, a few more weeks that he could spend in the company of Jack, and he had full intentions of making the most of that opportunity.
When his father complained of the amount of time he had spent with his friend he gently reminded him that they may never see each other again.
‘And what of your parents? Might you also never seen them again?’ his father had asked.
‘But father, I see you and mother first thing every morning. I work beside you every day, while mother prepares lunch for us each day. And I see you every night. Is it so terrible a request, before I must leave and head off to face whatever it is that my fate is, to spend some time with the one other person in this worldabout whom I care almost equally?’
His father looked down his long nose at his son, studying him carefully. For a long time neither Thompson man spoke
‘No, I guess not, lad, if that’s how you feel,’ the elder man eventually said, while wistfully recalling his own youth. It seemed the Thompson blood was strong in this boy, he thought.
* * *
When the date of Davy’s birthday finally arrived, March twelfth, there was little to celebrate, and these three Thompsons all knew it.
As they did every morning they rose and went about their daily business, pausing only briefly to wish their son a happy day and present him with his gift, a new safety razor with an ivory handle, to mark his becoming a man, before all three carried on with their morning chores.
It wasn’t until they had gathered for breakfast, some while later, that Davy took down the dreaded leaflet from the mantelpiece above the stove, where it had been sat not long after it had arrived.
Davy read it again, even though he knew every word upon it by heart.
‘Are you sure you want to do this, Davy?’ his mother asked him.
He looked up at his parents, who both expressions of worry. Slowly he nodded.
‘I have to,’ he said to them. ‘We must all do our bit.’
‘And what of your friend, Jack? Will he do his bit?’ his father asked.
‘He has almost a year before he needs to decide that. I know he hates war, but if he has to go he will. In the meantime he’ll still be doing his bit here… I’ve asked him to help you, if you need it, and he has agreed.’
‘That’s very sweet of him, Davy. With any luck the war will be over by the time he needs to consider going,’ his mother added.
‘That’s what I’ve been telling him,’ Davy remarked, before looking down at the leaflet once more.
As the emotion welled up inside him he thought he was in control of himself, that he was able to disguise the genuine fear that he was now beginning to feel, but his parents both saw the trembling hands with which he held the leaflet. They said nothing, though, for they knew his mind was made.
‘Mr Simpkins said I am to report to the barracks in Macquarie Harbor, just as soon as I am able following my birthday,’ he said to his concerned parents.
‘Well, boy, we knew this day would come,’ his father said. ‘We may not like it, but we know you’ll do us all proud, son.’
‘Yes, papa,’ Davy replied. ‘I will.’
‘It is quite a trip from here. We will leave in the morning,’ his father stated. ‘I suppose you must visit your friend to let him know.’
‘Yes, I should,’ Davy responded, as he tried to think of just how he would be able to break the news to Jack, the boy who was more than just his friend… he was also his brother… his lover… his everything, and he knew it was going to break both their hearts to be apart.
After breakfast, Davy set out across the paddocks on horseback in the direction of the Henderson farm. He didn’t think that Jack would be down by the creek, so he rode for their home instead, wading through the creek at the shallow crossing well downstream from their swimming hole and then cantering along the well-worn track toward where the small timber cottage was situated on a lush green hill, and surrounded by Jacaranda trees, with their beautiful purple flowers, and silky oaks.
In his own mind he had rehearsed over and over what it was he was going to say, but when he found Jack waiting for him at the gate into the yard around the house, there were no words that came to mind.
The two boys looked at each other glumly. There was nothing that could be said. They both knew that this was it.
‘You’ve made up your mind, then?’ Jack eventually managed to ask, as Davy climbed down from the back of his mare, nodding, though not wanting to say anything lest he lose his self-control.
Jack had known what was coming. They had discussed it often, and even though theyhad disagreed, he had still expected this news. He had even discussed it with his own parents and theyall agreed that Davy must make up his own mind. All that considered, it didn’t make the likely news any easier to swallow.
‘W-w-where are your parents?’ Davy cautiously asked.
‘Gone into the town,’ answered Jack. ‘They will be there for much of the day. What are your plans?’
‘I am to report to the barracks in Macquarie Harbour, just as soon after my birthday as practicable,’ Davy gloomily replied. ‘We shall be leaving in the morning.’
‘Just like that?’
‘It seems so. I’ll come back to see you again before I have to leave, I promise.’
‘You had better… or I shall never talk to you again,’ Jack declared, pouting slightly.
‘I promise,’ Davy said gravely, before taking Jack in his arms and burying his face against the younger boy’s neck.
The two boys spent much of that day together, not knowing if it might be the last time they are able to do so. Neither said anything about the immediate future, they were living in the here and now, and as they slowly undressed each other that afternoon, in the small nook off the back verandah that Jack called his room, drinking in the sight of each other’s nakedness, their only thoughts were on loving the other in a way they hadn’t done so before; perhaps for the first and last time.
* * *
As they lay together afterwards, Davy said, ‘At least you’ll still be here, all safe and sound,’
‘That may be true, but that will only be until the end of the year… until my own …’
‘Sshhh… It’ll all be over by then. I’m sure.’
‘How can you say that?’ Jack despaired. ‘You don’t know that… the war could go on for years yet. And if I don’t go, then I shall be shunned by everyone. I’ve heard of men even being beaten up for not going.’
‘We have to have some faith, my love. We have to trust that sooner or later it will all end… and when it does, we shall be together again… I promise you. I make this vow to you that I will return and we shall meet at that favourite place of ours, where our love will once again be able to flourish.’
Jack wished he could have the confidence that Davy had, but he knew there was no use in pointing out the obvious… that there was no way that Davy could make such promises as those he had made today. He knew that Davy would be clinging to the hope offered by those promises just as much as he would himself, so in return he promised himself that he wouldn’t say anything.
A short time later, as Davy rode away, heading for his home after sharing one last kiss across the back gate, Jack could only watch, his heart breaking, tears making their way down his face, as he wondered if this would be the final time he would ever see his love.
For Davy too, the tears were flowing, but he dared not look back. The sight of Jack that he wanted to carry with him into the months ahead was not that of a tearful boy, but that of a beautiful young man, firm and strong and loving. What he wanted to rememberwas the sight and scent of his youthful body, the feel of his lover as Jack enteredhim for that first time, and the expression on his face as he reached that climactic moment. It was a wonderful experience … however anyone could say something that beautiful was a sin he had no idea… and he felt certain that it would be the memory of this afternoonthat would be what would sustain him over the dangerous months to come.
When he reached his own home, after taking some time at the creek crossing to recover himself and wash the tears from his face, Davy was ready to face his own future, whatever that may be. His mother watched him from the verandah of their home, leaning against a post with her arms crossed in front of her and looking concerned, as he unsaddled his horse and then let her out into the small paddock where she was kept.
He wasn’t sure where his father was, but he fully expected to receive some sort of a tongue lashing for having been away for the best part of the day and neglecting his duties. When his father emerged from the shed moments later he was rather surprised that nothing was said, other than his asking after Jack.
‘Do they know of our love?’ he fearfully wondered.
‘How did he take the news?’ Davy’s father enquired.
‘We all knew it was coming,’ Davy replied. ‘I am sure that Jack will survive without me,’ he added, with just a hint of a smile on his face and in his voice.
‘Ahhh, yes, but will you survive without him?’ his father asked, while slapping his son on the back, before heading toward the house, and leaving Davy staring at his back.
* * *
Several weeks after Davy had gone, leaving Jack heartbroken after he hadn’t even returned to say goodbye, Jack received a letter. He knew the hand of the writer, perhaps better than that of anyone else in the world, and when his mother handed it to him that night, after he had come in from doing his chores, his heart skipped a beat, while at the same time he felt the blood drain from his face.
‘If you like, take it to your room to read,’ his mother had said, and for the first time he knew that someone else had some idea of his feelings for Davy. He looked at her inquisitively, as if trying to read her thoughts. ‘It’s all right, dear. I understand,’ she added, while briefly holding her son’s hands in hers, before then shooing him away with her hands.
Suddenly free of the fear he had secretly harboured for years, Jack kissed her on the cheek, then took off for his room, eagerly ripping the envelope open and finding not only a letter, but also a sepia toned photograph of a handsome young soldier in uniform, complete with his slouch hat and Enfield rifle.
Those two items would be what would sustain Jack for many months to come.
Dearest Jack,
I hope this finds you well, and that you have forgiven me my abrupt departure, without having said a proper goodbye? You will talk to me again, won’t you?
Things moved so fast after seeing the enlistment people in Macquarie Harbour and I’m afraid that I was unable to even return home. I hope that mother and father had let you know of that?
Unfortunately I cannot say where I am right now, apparently regulations forbid it, but rest assured I am still in our own country, for the time being at least. It is hot and dry where we are, and our regiment is training very hard. They are a companionable bunch, all from around Macquarie Harbour and towns such as ours, and so that makes it a little easier when I start to miss all my family and friends from home, as I know that they are feeling much the same.
When I feel particularly down in the mouth I only have to think about that place on the creek and all the fun that we had there whilst growing up. Such thoughts of home, of what we did and what we shall do again, shall be what I will carry with me throughout this journey, and into whatever battles I may face, and that is what will sustain me in the months, or even years, ahead.
The officers say we can expect to be going to Europe, but just where in Europe, or when, we do not know. It is all something of a guessing game, and some of the lads have started a book. My money, what little of it I have, is wagered on France, but we will just have to wait and see.
I must go now. Please be sure to give my fondest regards to your parents and our friends. I am counting the days until I can see the smiling faces of all those I love so much, the shores of our lake and our small town once again.
Sincerely yours,
David Thompson
Jack read it, and read it again.
To him, the letter seemed somewhat formal and even a little impersonal, not what you would expect to see written between two people in love, and at first he was a little disappointed. But then, as he thought it over, he realised that it was foolish of him to have expected anything different. Davy had said that he couldn’t say where they currently were, which to Jack at least, meant that the mail was likely being watched by the army, and if that was the case, then how could Davy say anything about loving him, or about what they were both wanting, or about what their future might hold.
When he re-read through it he focused on the paragraph which mentioned the fun they had had, and the fun they would have again. Then he read the final sentence once more… I am counting the days until I can see the smiling faces of all those I love so much.
That gave him hope, and for now at least, that was enough.
* * *
In the months that followed, thoughts of Davy were constantly on Jack’s mind. There had only been one more letter after that first one, within which Davy told Jack that they were about to be shipped out, but he still knew nothing of to where.
After that, there was nothing more.
With each passing week Jack was becoming more and more anxious, and being starved of any news or information regarding Davy, Jack took to visiting his lover’s parents, pestering them for any news they may have had, but they too had scarcely heard from their son.
He had promised Davy that he would look in on them anyhow, and help out wherever may be needed, and was only too pleased to honour that promise, especially if there was the hope of hearing some news… any news, of his love. He toiled in the paddocks beside Davy’s father, often ate meals with them, and got to know them in a way that he had never expected.
From the time Davy had left them all, which had been many months ago now, summer had given way to autumn, which had in turn given way to winter; a particularly wild winter which saw the coastal areas being lashed by storms. By the time spring had arrived, for which they were all extremely grateful, so too had news of losses on the battle front, and in particular those suffered by the regiments that had originated from Macquarie Harbour and surrounds.