Never Forget

Farewell George

GEORGE CAMPBELL 2/13 BATTALION

A kaleidoscope of colour twirls around the wooden dance floor as the dancers move from one corner to the next. Looking around the room I am not surprised by the number of people who have turned up to this maiden event. The folk of North Wagga love any excuse for a party and my farewell has drawn them like a moth to a candle. Weeeee, squeals my youngest sister Avis as I swing her tiny frame, lifting her feet off the dance floor. Laughing at her delight, I watch as she progresses to her next partner.

My hands continually grow clammy, despite rubbing the palms on my khaki trousers. The flash of read chiffon circles nearer and I cough to clear my constricting throat. Pull yourself together man I lecture myself. Her eyes travel and capture mine. It is only for a minute but I can feel the heat rising to my face. Several months have passed since I last saw her but the attraction is still there. The source of my admiration is a young lady by the name of Susan, a teacher who earlier in the year transferred to the area. When we met we had both thought it a sign that she resided at the boarding house, on George Street and in a perfect world our meeting would have led to true love.

Classically, it was on a warm summer's evening when I first saw her. Laden with a basket of books and a loaf of bread from Ovington's store, Susan had broken the heel on her shoe and was lame filly limping home. I came to her assistance and taken with my gallantry she had agreed to see me again. Our courtship, if you can call it that, was brief and ended just before I enlisted. I don't know why Susan had called an end to our relationship, she had simply told me, without any excuse or elaboration that she didn't want to see me anymore. I was pretty shattered at the time and if the truth be known still nurse the wounds of her rejection. But here she is at my farewell. Hoping that I'm not reading too much into her attendance I draw a deep breath and count the number of young ladies I must dance with before she is in my arms.

Ouch! A sharp pain travels up my shin bringing my attention quickly back to the dance partner in front of me. Rubbing the sore part of my leg I screw up my nose at my sister, Hazel. Her eyes sparkle playfully as she raises her eyebrows "She'll be here soon, Romeo," she teases. Even though I am a grown man I cringe with embarrassment.

"Is it that darn obvious?"

"Only to me and um ...the whole wide world," Hazel niggles.

In reply I plant my foot firmly over Hazel's causing her to fall unceremoniously into the arms of the next gentleman. She glances back at me and pokes out her tongue. Fred whose arms she has bounced into mouths a word of thanks- he has been trying to gain Hazel's attention for some time now. With only two ladies to go, I stand taller, unintentionally stick out my chest like a courting peacock - not long now.

The music stops and the dancers stand stationary for a moment trying to work out if it will resume. There is a group assembling on the stage- fussing, organising their ordinal position. It is now clear that the formal part of the night is about to commence and the dance floor slowly disperses. Somewhere, washed up in the whirlpool of bodies I lose sight of Susan. Standing on tip toes I search for a glimpse of red chiffon but it is nowhere to be seen. Bending down, I fake tying my shoelace. From this position I am able to survey the rainbow of hems but to my disappointment red is still missing.

"Ladies and Gentleman," starts Mr Albert. "Where is George?...George- up you come young man, come up the front." The hall full of eyes turn and rest on me, smiling helplessly and red faced I shake my head. I am quite comfortable where I am. It is ironic that Clive's exit from town was less of a fanfare. Clive is the performer of the family, the one who is always ready to put on a display and entertain the crowds. This shin-ding really would have been much more suited to him. It ends up being my, so called, mates who from either side, push me forward into the lion's den.