Bring 'Em Home

An American family moves to Fremantle in the 1960's and teens protest against vietnam.

Bring ‘Em Home

Looking across the foaming waters of the Indian Ocean, the coast of Western Australia could be seen etching steadily nearer. The sight of the town that was to be their home, brought feelings of excitement and anticipation but also, thoughts of the home they had left behind. Their friends, family, nation… With a new country came different laws, different people and different lives. What will it be like?

All thoughts of the past were abandoned when the anchor was sunk and the gangplank lowered. The McDonald family were herded off the ship with dozens of other passengers that were hoping to make a new life for themselves, or a few bucks, in this strange far away place. Eliza turned around to see her father, Jack, making a fuss over his car. Walking over to him, the words became audible.
“I must drive it!” insisted Mr McDonald, with his thick, Tennessee accent. “You’re not used to driving it.”
“Sir, I’ve-I’ve driven one before, we’ve-we’ve had several American im-immigrants come here for the m-mining business, all c-came with their cars.” The young wharfie was stuttering with nerves, he had never had these problems before, but then again, hardly anyone could afford to ship their cars over.
“What’s the trouble here?” a police security guard had walked up unnoticed, English accent cutting through the conversation and background noise of boats and the general babble of the port. Mr McDonald looked at the fabric badge on the guard’s chest; R. Hart.
“Mr Hart, this man will not let me drive my car out.”
“Sir, these men are qualified drivers and have had experience with left-hand drive before. Your car is in safe hands.” He could see him going over it in his mind.
“Well… All right then, but be careful.” He reluctantly smiled and raised a hand in defeat and acceptance. “Mr Hart, would you happen to know where Pakenham St is?”
“Yes, just go down High St here and you’ll come across it. Are you here for the mining?”
“Yeah, I‘m working at the ALCOA office in Booragoon.”
“Ahh. Well, good luck to you and your family.”
“Thanks, you too. See you around.” They both smiled, shook hands and walked off along the gangplank. Jack put an arm around his wife and kissed her on the cheek, then put his other arm around his daughter. They stepped off the gangplank onto Australian soil and smiled happily.
“Welcome to Fremantle.” Jack McDonald said, surveying the landscape of old and new buildings.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“It’s just a car.”

The sheets fell off her shoulders as Eliza sat up. I can’t have slept for over an hour.
“Argh!” Go back to sleep! As she lay back down, she heard a noise from outside. She went to her open window and looked down to see her mother sitting in her nightgown and shawl, crying, clutching the letter she had received those three years ago. Eliza grimaced and pushed the memories away, got back into bed and fell asleep.

Eliza rolled up the top of her knee-length skirt so it was more of a mini, and then twirled around in front of her mirror to see her work. She brushed her hair and pushed it into a side-ponytail, looked in the mirror; makeup, hair, uniform, all good. Smiling, she walked down the stairs and sat at the table.

“Good morning, darlin’,” her mother, said cheerfully.
“Good morning,” he said smiling, looking up from his newspaper. As she walked past him, she glanced at the newspaper:

February 1, 1968

“Anything interesting?”
“Not really, seems not much happens here.”
“Oh.”
“Made your favourite for your first day of school.”
“Thanks mom.” The McDonalds had been in Fremantle for about three weeks, setting up their house and exploring the area. Eliza had been bored for the most part, by what she had seen so far, it wasn’t the most exciting place in the world. Tucking into her breakfast, her nerves subsided and confidence grew. Once finished, she got up and got her bag of schoolbooks. “See you tonight, mom.” She hugged her with her free arm and kissed her cheek. “Come on, dad!” He smiled, got up, kissed his wife and left with Eliza.

“Good luck, honey.” He smiled and waved goodbye.
“You too.” She smiled and walked towards the students that were at the front of John Curtin Senior High School. As she got closer, some of the students started staring at her. Then Eliza noticed that no one was dressed like her; all of the girls had knee-length skirts, hair tied up in a bun or ponytail of some sort and all make-up was kept to a minimum. This contrasted greatly to her choice of dress; short skirt showing half of her thighs, hair swept to the side with thick, black eyeliner and mascara. In short, she was different.

Nervous now, she walked up to the mob of students but didn’t join them, she pretended to be busy by looking through her bag of books and making sure she had them all. Soon enough, a small group of students came up to her and at first, just stared. They looked about 16; they could be in her class.
“Can I help you?” Eliza looked up and said cheerfully, plastering a smile on her face. How long were they just going to stand and gape at me?
“Where are you from?” asked one of the kids, a girl with dark brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, light brown eyes and a spotless uniform.
“Tennessee, America. We moved here a few weeks ago. My dad is part of the board for an American mining company here.” She wasn’t sure if they were looking for trouble or were just curious. Thee was a pause and she waited with baited breath.
“I’m Helen,” said the same girl that had first spoken to her. “This is Elinor,” pointing to a girl with blonde hair and hazel eyes next to her, “and this is Linda” gesturing to another girl on her left with light brown hair and green eyes. “Steve! Trevor! Come over here!” Two tall boys, one with dark brown hair and one blonde, came walking over to where the group of girls were, when they heard Helen yelling. 
“I’m Eliza, Eliza McDonald.” She smiled and they all smiled back. Maybe this won’t be so bad…

“You have a TV?!” Screamed Helen.
“Yeah.” Eliza turned it on to show them a re-run of ‘Bewitched', watching their awed expressions.
“It’s no big deal, quite a few families own a TV in America.” She turned it off, everyone watching the black and white picture disappear with a flash.
“Not here.” Helen replied.
“Wow, you have a lot of music!” exclaimed Steve, dark hair shaking with his head as he flicked through the records: ‘Twist and Shout’ by ‘The Beatles’. “This looks interesting. Who are ‘The Beatles’?” Eliza’s mouth dropped open.
“You haven’t heard of ‘The Beatles’…” She said with disbelief, voice low. Whoa, these people are way isolated. “They’re a very popular band. Everyone’s heard of them.” Elinor, Helen, Linda, Steve and Trevor all had blank faces. Oh boy. She put the record on and the music started to play.

“Well, shake it up, baby, now,
Twist and shout.
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now,
Come on and work it on out.

Well, work it on out, honey.
You know you look so good.
You know you got me goin', now,
Just like I knew you would…”
“Come on, join in!” Eliza was singing along and dancing around the living room, shimmering in front of the boys and twisting up and down. At first the boys shied away in shock, but then they caught on and joined in. The girls watched in fascination but then joined in as well.

“You know you’re a twisty little girl,
You know you twist so fine.
Come on and twist a little closer, now,
And let me know that you're mine.” They continued to dance and sing around till the song ended and when it did, collapsed in a big heap in the middle of the room, laughing.
“That. Was. FUN!” Shouted Linda, Standing up. Even though she was slightly short, what she didn’t have in height, she made up for with personality. A feisty little thing, but everyone loved her.
“You’re telling me!” Elinor was usually quieter than the rest of the group, but now she was as crazy as the rest of them. “Peter Seeger… eh, looks fun.” The cover had a picture of a happy, old man with a banjo.
“Elinor, I don’t think…” Eliza began, but she had already put the record in the player and started it.

“Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will you ever learn?
When will you ever learn?...” By now they had all sat down, Elinor looking a bit sheepish for lowering their mood and Eliza very quiet.
“…Where have all the young men gone?
They’re all in uniform…” Everything was hushed. It was like the world had stopped but for these six teenagers.
“…Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one…” Quiet still ruled the room.
“…Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?” It was silent. Everyone just sat still.
“I’m…” Elinor started, but when she looked over at Eliza, she stopped. She was completely still, staring off to some far away land, a solitary tear falling down her cheek.
“My brother fought in the Vietnam war. Went over three years ago.” More tears rolled down her face. “He didn’t come back.”
“That damn war’s brought nothing but trouble since it began.” Linda hugged Eliza while her face crumpled and lips shook.
“Most wars do,” commented Trevor,
“This can’t go on. Too many people have died!” Linda cried. “One too many.”
“Tomorrows Saturday. Everyone meet at the town hall at two-thirty. The public has ears and they will listen. Where going to put an end to this.” Decided Eliza. “No matter how long it takes.”

The group assembled at the town hall at half past two and quickly discussed what they were going to do. In ten minutes, they were ready and determined. Standing up to put their plan into action, they all stood in a line and began to speak to the growing crowd around them.
“Bring our troops home! Our fathers, sons, brothers, friends and beloved, they’re being sent to their deaths!” Linda exclaimed, initiating the protest.
“We’re protecting Vietnam from the Vietnamese!”
“And why do we kill them? Is death better than living under communism rule? We’re not saving them.”
“You send young men who can’t vote for their freedom, to die for a corrupt government! That’s immoral!”
“It’s a civil war! We have no business there! Think! If some fierce nation threatened to invade our country, I’d be first in line for enrolment! But this isn’t our fight. There is no fierce nation threatening to destroy our land. There’s just a country, far away, squabbling with each other over insignificant matters.” Trevor was breathing heavily. He then stood straight and proud. “I will not fight these people. I will not die for these people.”
“But it’s our civil duty! We must fight for our country!” Mr. Shooter was one of the onlookers in King’s Square.
“Fight for our country?! This conflict has nothing to do with our country! Why does this government make its people die for someone else’s war?” Steve fervently stated. “This is not our war!”
“My brother went to Vietnam three years ago. He gave his life, and for what? For more young men to go there and give their lives?!” Silence washed over everything as Eliza paused. “Nothing will come of this war, nothing but death and sorrow. So we’re calling you to arms. Not for war but for peace! Someone has to end this, and right now that’s us.”
“Here, here!” Her heartfelt speech was soon followed by murmurings throughout the crowd and agreements from all her comrades.
“Spread the word! Our soldiers are coming home!” And so the crowd dissipated, some going down Adelaide street, some William street, several went into town down High street and a few simply stayed. No matter where they went, there was discussion of what had occurred.

“Good morning, darlin’,” her mother, said cheerfully.
“Good morning,” her father said smiling, looking up from his newspaper. As Eliza walked past him, she glanced at the front page:

Another Anti-Vietnam Rally,
Protesters Gaining Support?

And so she smiled. 





Written by G.H.