WHAT ARE THEY WEARING?

Dominion, Volume 34, Issue 112, 5 February 1941, Page 5

WHAT ARE THEY WEARING?

A few months ago, our bouse was a place where one heard a whistle, a song, voices in cheery argument, states a writer in the “Sydney Morning Herald.” Four young men enlivened it each day, going off to business and university, then home in the evening, tired and ready for a hearty meal. All this has changed. The house is always quiet. I sit sometimes in silence, then take a walk through the rooms. The first is my edest son’s bedroom. It is very ueat. On the walls hang records of his days at great public school, a degree in economics, and his cap and gown. On a table are piles of books with heavy academic titles.

I look into his loughboy. A school blabzer with a “blue” for cricket. University blazer with a “blue'’ for baseball. His evening dress and all his day clothes are there. What can he be wearing? I pass to another room. It belonged to my third son. Evidence of a student and athlete. Shelves of books. Sporting photographs and accountancy diplomas on the walls. I look into his wardrobe. All his clothing is there. AVhat is he wearing? Still another room I visit. First thing I see is the photograph of a sweet-faced girl. This laddie, the youngest of the boys, loves the lassies. No school records on his walls. He always liked to sleep in. About this room are strewn magazines of advanced science—popular t.vpe—newspaper clippings and pencil stubs. He's a journalist in civil life. I peep into his cupboard also. Clothes all there.

AVhat can he be wearing? I know what my boys are wearing.

Khaki. I am proud of it. But sometimes I like to pretend they have not gone away, and try to forget they are soldiers.

They return from camp each leave and cheer me for a few moments. Each dumps a pack of soiled khaki to be picked up next visit, (with a cake made by mother) and other little luxuries. One day there will be no leaves for them. ' They will go awaj- to fight for Australia.

I shall keep their rooms and clothes ready for them when they return. My second son is married. Perhaps, one day, his wife shall go to his cupboard and find his clothes all there.