Manus
Thomas Connelly
Wrench-snatched from the rapacious hands of slow to start
Imperial Germany, Imperial England Victorious gave
To ever obedient Australia this tasty morsel of colonial
Land. The Trust Territory of New Guinea.
North East part of the island and the sun swaying isles
Of bird of paradise dancers and the crystalline
Sausage and law making waves upon waves crashing
The Bismark Blood & Iron Sea.
And Little Billy told Wilson and such:
"Strategically the northern islands
(such as New Guinea)
Encompass Australia
Like fortresses.
They are as necessary To Australia
As water to a city."
The ruling bourgeoisie more and more seeks salvation in fascism.
And in 1942 when the inevitable war with Imperial Japan came,
A handful of diggers and a radio tower on Manus.
Air raids and bombings and then a landing, and the diggers
Dove into the bush, destroying all the could not carry
Private Coker commented
"A hand-grenade,
and run like hell,
did the trick!"
And fighting the jungle and malaria and
Lieutenant Palmer
(cited for Military Medal)
“He was unable to walk for several weeks
For severe septic infection on his arms and leg”
“Weakness due to several attacks of malaria.”
SO
Lance-Corporal McLean
Took command the four man patrol &
Found the Lutheran Mission firmly
In Japanese hands. So they beat it out of there
Fortuitous heavy jungle obscuring rain
And the relentless beating sound
Of rain falling covered the retreat.
Through swamp and jungle and cutting grass
And illness and starvation, and then on boats
The sailed the IJN cruised sea
And overland and over mountains
And final hope home Cairns in May.
The ruling bourgeoisie are trying to solve the problem of markets
By enslaving the weak nations,
By intensifying colonial oppression &
Repartitioning the world anew by means of war.
And then in February leap year day 29 1944
Diggers and Doughboys crawling up the Solomons Islands
And the Trust Territories landed Manus Island.
Guadalcanal, Milne Bay, Buna, The Bismark Sea, Lae,
Rabaul, Scarlet Beach, Finschhafen. Diggers and Doughboys
ANZACS and sad sack dog faced GIS fought with
Bayonet and machine gun with flame thrower and demo charge
With cannon and aircraft. And the things they saw and did
Broke many of them 1000 yard shell shock PTSD stare.
Crawling mud and poisoned insect snake bite green hell
Jungle. Pushing back the venal bestial racist fascist
Ideology of the anti-comintern, rolling back the fascist
Offensive. Manus Island attacked, and shortly captured.
Well, now time passed and now it seems.
Everybody’s having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves.
Walking around with no one else.
Dreams of a land without the others, dreams of an end to history
And end to the stresses and uncertainties of capitalism,
Dreams of an obsolete discredited ideology
Old man old school old timey dreams of controlling the external Dreams that somehow it will end differently, that we can close Our eyes and everything will somehow be all right.
BUT -
Fascism is a most ferocious attack by capital on the mass of the working people;
Fascism is unbridled chauvinism and predatory war;
Fascism is rabid reaction and counter-revolution;
Fascism is the most vicious enemy of the working class and of all working people.
And now we can imagine and see on this very spot a wild eyed
Dare-death opium and hunger fueled banzai attack -
Shooting from the hip and shouting wild the Japanese Marines
Fall upon the position. Hacking and attacking and striking out
In all directions. Indiscriminate. And after the smoke and noise
Clears broken bodies of empty hope the result of lies, of a cynical
Grab-lust for power. Unbridled chauvinism. Rabid reaction.
Predatory war.
For what is a squaddie if not a proletarian?
And then, as if a final spitting in our face
Historic irony, it was here, when we almost half-believed
In a new world, in a better world,
In a world that does not need to resort to war
And endless horror.
It was here in 1950 that Australia held the last trials against Japanese
War criminals.
And Nauru Pleasant Phosphate Island, a second morsel to be savoured
And shared jointly exploited ANZAC & England. Captured and by- passed
And withered on the vine. And abused by the great and torn up and emptied
And in 1989 Australia was sued for damages done to the island;
The island put in our trust as a token –
Not enough, never enough to reward the slaughters of Flanders
And Turkey.
And did those country bumpkins, did those inner city hooligans
Signing up for adventure, signing up for their first pair of shoes,
In fear and bravado, did they, shivering in their watery slit trenches;
Did they do all this, so much waste and horror, did they liberate
The camps so that we too can build camps?
Thomas Connelly sent in this poem today. He writes that he lives in Tasmania with his family in a town called Dodges Ferry. "I wrote this poem yesterday and read it at the MONA markets in the afternoon."
The poem will be published in a Postmistress Press anthology later this year. Ruth Skilbeck 23.2.2014
The poem will be published in a Postmistress Press anthology later this year. Ruth Skilbeck 23.2.2014
