LIVIN G & LE ARNING
However, something happened to me when I saw an online news report from early 2015 about Mervyn’s sister supporting the push to bring home the bodies of Vietnam veterans, including a handsome black and white photo of her brother – whom she described as “the most wonderful brother anyone could have”. It was an emotionally charged moment. Researching more, I learnt that Wilson
was a stretcher-bearer in the Australian Army, 1st Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment – and that he was attempting to rescue a fellow soldier when he was shot dead at Ben Cat, Pooch Tuy. He was buried at Terendak (Malacca War Graves Cemetery) in Malaysia. Further, Mervyn was born on 11
November 1936, just 18 years after the day in 1918 when hostilities officially ceased in World War 1; the day, ever since, that Australians and people of other Commonwealth nations have remembered those who died fighting
for their country. Wilson’s hometown is listed as Granville, NSW, although he grew up on the Central Coast. I read Eunice’s account of her brother at the age of eight, learning to play the cornet and joining The Entrance City Band. Also Mervyn was a lifesaver, and delivered telegrams on his pushbike; he joined the Army at 25, and served in Vietnam for 227 days. I pondered the fact I’d had twice
the lifetime years of this young man, to discover what my life is about. I wondered what Mervyn might have done if he’d been given the same opportunity.
I wondered how different his life might have been if he’d been able to return home from the war to his wife and two young children; or lived to know his grandchildren.
These details filled in the picture; but for me, the picture had already told
the story. Looking at that first photo, the smiling face of the Aussie war hero whose remains I had conveyed past thousands of well-wishers lining Sydney streets, in one of the longest cortèges of hearses ever assembled in Australia – somehow, I was touched by a very real sense of loss. The repatriation ceremony gave
me a first-hand experience of how times of crisis or tragedy and loss, of high achievement or going beyond – which often bring together all these things – can dissolve the boundaries of self, community and nation. In these miraculous moments, we set aside our differences. We pull together in the name of something real. We are all connected. n
Steve Denham is a published writer of non-fiction, fiction and poetry. His ebook “A Plate of Eggs” is dedicated to the mateship of soul.
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119552i191 24 JULY 2016
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