The captains and the kings depart

Andrew Stackpool

‘The tumult and the shouting dies, the captains and the kings depart.”

The second verse of the Recessional continues: “Still stands thy ancient Sacrifice, an humble and a contrite heart.”
The words were fitting for the Victory in the Pacific 60th Anniversary (VP60) commemorative service, which was held at the Australian War Memorial on August 15.

Yet, in 1945, often it took a lot of time for the captains and the kings to depart.

One man described how as a 10-year-old boy he ran home upon hearing the news of Japan’s surrender only to be disappointed when he found his father had not come home.

This writer’s father didn’t get home until late 1946 and even then the only way his unit made it was by hitching a ride on a Royal Navy aircraft carrier.

Yet, they were the lucky ones. Many families’ dads never came home. Many dads came home hideously disfigured, with limbs missing, with jungle illnesses or emotional and mental anguish they never shook off, or with dreams that would bring them screaming from the deepest slumber for decades to follow.

Men were demobbed, but often found their wives and kids had changed while they were away. Men were supposed to pick up the reins from where they had left off, find scarce jobs and resume their places as head of the house.
Sometimes, women resented the disruption to their newfound independence or changed households. Some families made it.

Some coped and some couldn’t.

VP60 was a time for celebration, of commemoration of sacrifice, but it was also a time for contemplation.

The national president of the RSL, Major General Bill Crews, retired, summed it up.

”It was important that we hold the 60th Anniversary celebrations,” he said.

“With most veterans now in their 80s, 90s and even 100s, we may never again get the opportunity to remember what they did and thank them personally.”

 

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