War

I digress slightly as I'm preparing a post about money and conservation, I reflected on the Remembrance Coin I posted below. It got me thinking about War, war stories, experiences, effects on the innocent caught up in global turmoil and post-war trauma for those who fight and return.

Soldiers sent to war, sometimes a war which is far removed from their lives or in many cases irrelevant to them, still go to fight and battle - they go for many reasons - it is expected, social pressure, to earn a living, personal reasons and political agendas of the time.

Perhaps the reasons they go are irrelevant - what is more important is how they live post-war, how they return and live normal, everyday lives after trauma. How do they return to normal lives - it is expected isn't it that men who go to war, will just be able to return and slot in like nothing ever happened - end-of-story.

As it turns out, it doesn't work out that way. War is part of the human time-line's history for many reasons - however, perhaps we're not meant to battle. Perhaps the idea of war is abhorrent to us, so when soldiers return from battle, they're traumatised.

They're traumatised because war creates environments where boundaries are crossed and it's foreign; it's foreign territory to those in combat, living and breathing armed conflict. I don't think we are naturally disposed to warfare. Soldiers returning from combat face social, emotional, physical and psychological issues when adjusting to normalcy.

Soldiers are expected to return from armed conflicts, throw down their knapsacks and get on with it. I know this was the case for my father who was a Prisoner-of-War World War II, (POW - WWII). In the late 1940s, there was no counselling, no de-brief and no emotional psychological therapy to help deal with the trauma and experience of that period when returning to the shores of Australia.

Basically, the war ended and dad was in the camp with the other men just sitting around as their captors had disappeared. They had heard a rumour the war was over and the next thing they knew Dakota aircraft came over and dropped bundles of food. They were Americans.

No one had told them the war was over. After American troops dropped food bundles, British troops arrived. Sick men were flown back to Australia immediately and the others like my dad, were sent back gradually and rebuilt lives.

What is worse, there is inter-generational trauma which means kids experience trauma resulting from their forefathers' war experiences, so the cost and impact of war is passed onto future generations. This has an enormous toll on communities and nations as well as individuals affected.

Here is an excerpt from my father's experience as a WW II POW along the border of Thailand and Burma -

“We had to build a bloody railway. The casualty rate was very high. Every sleeper had cost a life. Many men died of cholera. Weary Dunlop was eventually our doctor. At Konu river camp three hundred men out of a total seven hundred died from cholera. I recall lighting fires with bamboo to burn the bodies to stop the spread of disease.

I survived with the help of two other men. I would go into the jungle and get elephant ear leaves and eat them. I would catch lizards with string by making a loop and the lizard would come up through the hole.

We were rationed with one cup of rice a day. The Japanese made us live on Tokyo time. We would get up in the pitch black and walk to the railway line, called Hell Fire crossing. We had no shoes. It would be pouring rain and stinking hot, about forty degrees Celsius. Blokes just died. We would say, another day nearer the grave.

Reconnaissance planes would come over and take photos. Then they would come back with knowledge gleaned from the shots and bomb our handiwork.

I had my twenty first at Tarso and was given extra rice by my mates. We were at Konu when we were told the war was over. It was about the 15 August 1945. Lots of Japanese came in and put machine guns all around us. I thought, “Hello, they were going to kill us.” My mate said to me, “Pretend we are dead then when they are finished, we will go.”

We had heard a rumour the war was over.

Around this time the Japanese just suddenly disappeared and we were sitting about. Dakota aircraft came over and dropped bundles of food. They were Americans. No one told us the war was over.

Next thing we knew British forces came along and they put us on a train in open carriages and took us down the line towards Singapore. We were taken to a camp. Lady Mountbatten from Burma came to see us, for moral support, I suppose.

The Singapore Red Cross attended to the sick men and flew them out immediately. The rest of us were gradually sent home. We were given money, a certain amount of money. I can’t recall how much. I had had malaria forty to fifty times and weighed six stone.”

~~
As it was a World War, nationalities in Australia were too interned in a Prisoner of War camp in an inland region of southern Australia. Today the camp is symbolic of peace and forgiveness for all who experience warfare - we all ought to express our sorrow for those caught up in battle, those who fought, died, innocent victims, those who return and live a living hell and for those kids who experience inter-generational trauma all in the name of war.

The opposite of war ~~








forgiveness, understanding, compassion, peace, tranquility, acceptace forigve ourselves, harmony, healing

For more information about elephant ear leaves view - Eat your elephant ears - hiding food in plain sight

Note

Weary Dunlop was a military officer on the Burma Thailand railway and he often put his own life at risk to advocate for sick and injured men. He stood up to the captors and laboured tirelessly. He got the name 'Weary' as his last name Dunlop was a reference to being tired like a Dunlop tyre - LOL.

On another note, if I could just be a little bit indulgent, another Australian who I admire is a female sailor called Kay Cottee who in June 1988 became the first woman to sail solo, unassisted and nonstop around the world. I admire her of course for this achievement but also in her autobiography she comes across as a regular and down-to-earth person, chatting to tradies during smoko (tea-break) showing interest in their lives and keen to learn more about their trades.

Money

Besides holidays, another commonality we all share is the need for money.  We need money to live, pay bills and to meet our basic needs. Money too, is used for luxury, for enjoying life, supporting families and protecting our health.

Money is valuable because we all know it will be accepted universally as a method of payment.

Brief history - money

Money has been on the human timeline for around 3,000 years. Prior to this historians believe barter was the form of currency. It is a direct form of goods and services, so you offer goods in return for a service. After this time, there was a form of 'pre-historic' currency. An example is the trading of animal pelts in exchange for flour or sugar, example American Indians and European Colonists.

Bartering is still used in some parts of the world today, however it is inefficient. If you want produce but someone else who has produce will only trade for fabric and you do not have this, then you have to travel long distances to find someone who will barter in exchange for what you have. This is tiring and you may consider it not a fair exchange if you have a more valuable commodity than what is on offer so the system then becomes complex and clunky.

Fast forward an Economics lesson

As a 16 year old, I did a semester of economics and I remember the teacher asking us what happens when we spend $2. I thought about it and I said, well I buy something, like lollies, chips, or soft drink. The teacher, Mr Doyle said yes that's true and then paused. He went onto say, when we spend $2 it goes to someone else who spends it as part of another purchase. That purchaser uses it in his purchase who then goes onto spend it elsewhere. Before you know it that $2 has circulated several times in the economy, each time increasing the wealth of a recipient, giving pleasure to someone, giving someone something they want or has been used to buy petrol, groceries or pay the electricity bill. This single gold coin has had a ripple effect, circulating, increasing wealth of an individual or business and boosting economies. This is called the 'multiplier effect' and this increase in spending produces an increase in a country's national income and consumerism.

It's interesting, isn't it, when you narrow it down like that to a single coin, you can see the principles of economics in action and in such a way that everyone can understand it.

Thanks Mr Doyle, for making economics so easy-to-understand; you are the epitome of what defines teaching. Even after all these years I still clearly visualise that lesson, right down to sitting on the hard-backed chair, one student amongst 25 in a class of both sexes, with a book and pen for scribbling notes. After all this time, this 30 minute lesson in economics, the way you spoke, your stance, your nasal twang, resplendent of Australia and your lanky frame and fine black hair still resides with me, your presence in the classroom and your teaching stays with me as a pivotal learning experience.

I wonder what you are doing now, Mr Doyle - I trust you are still living and breathing the good life.

Thank you for allowing me to indulge myself, momentarily. Now - getting back to the 'multiplier effect.' The circulation of money throughout economies brings positive benefits. It brings prosperity, profits and wealth for nations. These all have a cumulative effect on a large scale with nation building prosperity, through to individual growth from the local fruiterer selling you his produce to the hotelier taking payment for your holiday in the Grand Hotel in your favourite city's beach suburb.

All of these activities not only creates wealth for countries, individuals and businesses, the 'multiplier effect' has huge social benefits to communities from social capital - you go to your local cafe and spend that $2, beginning a cycle of circulation and increases in economies to the benefits you gain from connecting with the barista, not to mention the contact you get from meeting your friend for coffee.

Alternatively, you may enjoy a coffee while reading the paper so you catch up on current affairs, stay informed and share a few minutes' discussion the following day at work with a colleague.

You may think this is really no big deal - be assured though you are building social capital in your community, for yourself and for others. All of these elements bring increases in social wellbeing and ripple effects in reducing loneliness, social isolation and improving the emotional health of people.

These small acts from you spending $2, buying coffee or making larger purchases are powerful ways to build capital, both social and economical. This impact on larger scale activities such as start-ups, generating employment across a wide range of sectors and industries, means employees spend to live, support themselves, pay bills, run cars, buy homes, go on holidays, raise families, live their dreams and more.

It's exciting to break it down to a micro-level and to know we all make valuable contributions when we spend $2. The ripple effect has long-term social and economic benefits for countries and its people as our $2 circulates and multiplies, used in bigger purchases bringing wealth for countries and its people.

Stay tuned, another post soon on money and money conservation.

Remembrance Day Poppy Coin - Australian coin

Background impage displays lady beetles painted with the mouth, Mouth and Foot Painting Artists.

Riding the waves

We'd been at the beach all summer, a long holiday after finishing Year 12. Our days were spent swimming, surfing and riding waves.



We lived in a shack, with no power and had a cold shower at the beach. There was tap water on the property and an outdoor's toilet. We cooked on a gas cooker, played cards and listened to music by lamplight at night.

During the day we went to the beach, loaded the wave ski into the Ute and drove 3 minutes to the beach. We couldn't walk with the ski. It was too big, too cumbersome and the sun's rays beat down on our bodies as early as 10 am in the morning. Walking 1,000 metres to the beach with the ski, well it may as well have been a mountain climb.

Besides, Matty knew how much I loved the ski. It was his but he bought it for me so we threw it into the Ute each day and drove the short distance to the beach.

I'd take the wave ski out over the breakers, timing it so I rode up and over the waves' crests satisfied to hear the predictable thud of the ski's base on the water's surface. It was a sound which made me feel happy and content. It made me feel as if I was in control, the master of this ski, working with the ocean's rhythm on this sunny day where the waves curved in beautiful unison, slowly and unrelentingly spanning the beach's horizon.

I glided effortlessly over the water, delighting in the rhythm of the paddle's twirling as I pulled it either side of the ski, propelling me outwards, fearless and youthful. My feet strapped into the foot holes gave me leverage as I settled my lower body into the seat, shifting as water ran in rivulets around my buttocks and underneath my outstretched legs on the ski's frame.

It was a huge ski, full-sized around 184 cms and unwieldy. I moved it from the sand to the water only by picking it up, tucking it under my armpit and dragging it to the water's edge.

Being Matty's ski, he bought it to fit his frame, 184 cms tall and weighing around 78 kgs. He bought if for the summer break. However it was me who used it, dragging it into the water each day while he sat on the sand and watched.

At 170 cms, I stretched the ski's length and my just feet reached the footholds. I curled my toes upwards clinging to the rubber bands. The ski barely registered my weight, a little over 8 stone. I was a bantam weight in an arena of overpowering variables, such as an ocean without mercy and a piece of equipment which could become a deadly missile if I misjudged a wave's force or my timing was miscalculated.

My lightness was an advantage. My weight was irrelevant to the ski's instability. In fact its cumbersome design worked to my advantage. Its construction, well built on either side splayed outwards across the water. I felt its stability around my hips and lower torso. It released me and freed me to ride the waves.

I was almost out beyond the breakers and I could see the waves curling about 10 metres in front of me. It was 35 degrees a hot and clear summer's day. There were surfers around but the waves were endless and there was space for everyone. No-one bothered each other, no-one bothered me. I was free, free to paddle, glide and rise above the breakers as I wanted or turn around and glide back into shore. It didn't matter; my choice, my decision out in the ocean, where its lure today belied its unfathomable fury if conditions were otherwise on this clear and sunny day.

I was ready, I could see it and hear it rolling. I knew this was the one. This was the breaker I was going to catch, on this wave ski, this wave ski which was too big for me, yet I knew its very size would work for me.

However, I needed masterful technique, especially on these breakers, to handle its clunky design. The wave unfolding before me was my challenge.

I turned the ski so my back faced the wall of water and I paddled. I could hear the splashing of water as it fell away from the paddle's strokes and the view ahead of me was clear and uninterrupted.

I was expectant, unaware the wave rolling my way was more than I had ridden before.

It was too late to turn and too late to bail. I would be churned inside a whirlpool of white water with an out-of control ski turned projectile smashing into my vulnerable areas, my head or back if I opted out now.

It was then upon me. I could feel it lifting me and carrying me on its crest and I paddled to keep up. It lifted me up and up until I was balancing on a peak; a tiny speck, alone in the vastness of the ocean. It was in that small space of time, I knew I needed to do something. I needed to do something quickly because this was big. It was the biggest wave I had ever ridden and I was scared. I was scared because it was unexpected, its crest was unanticipated. I sensed its energy underneath me and at my shoulder. I knew this challenge was bigger than my planning and I braced for it.

As its sound vibrated in my ears, I could feel the wave's aggression bearing down on me and I could feel the front of the ski tipping downwards into the breaking wave. For a second I thought I was gone; fear gripped me in my stomach as I felt the wave's energy hurl me forward. Not wanting to drop into its core, I eased my upper body slowly backwards hard, connecting it to the base of the ski. Its tip stopped dipping. However it wasn't enough as I could feel the wave's energy underneath my back, powerful and merciless and I knew it would dump me ruthlessly if I allowed it. The ski was no longer a ski but a deadly projectile, out-of-control on an even greater uncontrollable wave.

Lying flat, I arched my neck so as to see my environment, I dipped the right hand paddle close to the ski's side and held it until its nose turned upwards and I guided it slightly to the right. I held the paddle pressing my shoulders into the base of the ski to maintain the nose's upright position. I could hear the ocean rumbling. Positioned at an acute angle to the wave, I slowly changed the paddle's direction, to the left and secured the same position, skimming the water steadily. This saw the ski turn, more front-facing. Still pronate, I directed the ski using the paddle at the right side again, keeping it facing frontwards. The ski and me wedged into its seat descended into the wave's curvaceous vacuum of energy and hurtled towards the shore.

I experienced a mixture of euphoria, fear, excitement and joy riding the breaker's unexpected fury which only moments prior had left me impotent. The thrill of speed was like an injection into my bloodstream.

I revelled in the unexpected. I had conquered the wave, which for a moment out there I knew was too big for me. I went with it, for good or bad. This time I had out manoeuvred it.

The wave ski stopped abruptly as I surfed through to the shallow waters, landing on the sandy shore. I emerged from its seat, holding the paddle high in a symbolic gesture of all I had conquered, and rejoicing in that moment. There was no other moment, no past or future, except that moment to savour until it too would pass and become a memory and a story to revisit again sometime in the future.

As the long summer days got shorter and the days slightly cooler, we knew our summer break had come to an end. It was time, time to store the wave ski in the shed, lock up the shack, pack up our belongings and head back home.



It was time to find work, pay rent and build lives. Lives which meant lifestyles would be more ordered and structured and where other experiences would reveal themselves as they do in anyone's life-cycle of relationships, travel, work commitments and a myriad of other events in what makes up the rich tapestry of our lives.

As the long summer days got shorter and the days slightly cooler, we knew our summer break had come to an end. It was time, time to store the wave ski in the shed, lock up the shack, pack up our belongings and head back home.

Image courtesy of Michelle Meiklejohn at FreeDigitalPhotos.net - beach flags

Image courtesy of EA at FreeDigitalPhotos.net - crashing waves